PILSUDSKI A BIOGRAPHY HIS WIRE ALEXANDRA PILSUDSKA

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PILSUDSKI

JL "Biography by

His Wife
ALEXANDRA PILSUDSKA

WITH FRONTISPIECE

NEW YORK

DODD, MEAD & COMPANY
1941

1940* 1941
BY DODD, MF.AD AND COMPANY, INC

AM, RKHITB

NO PART 01** TlfW BOOK MAY IIK RKI*tt<inUC IN ANY FORM
\ViriKWr PRM!SSU)N IN

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MtlNTKt) IN TKK U H I T K I) UTAtti* UK AMKlltt A
iy TMX VAlt*ALf.9U FRKnH, INC,, KJNUKAHTON, N. .

JUL 3

PREFACE

I HAVE written this book not for Poles, who know the history
of their country, but especially for foreigners, giving them the
fragments of niy personal recollections against an historical
background. The work was rather difficult because I had left
many of my books and documents in Poland. The conditions
under which I wrote this book, in collaboration with Mrs.
Jennifer Ellis, were also difficult. I know no English, Mrs.
Ellis no Polish. I had to tell her my story in French, she
wrote it in English, and then every chapter had to be read
to me in Polish so that I could judge it and make final sug
gestions,

I have tried to draw both the faults and good qualities of
my country and its people and I think that English and Ameri
can people will be able to find some characteristics of ours
which are common also to themselves. I shall be very happy
if this book can contribute a little towards the mutual under
standing of our nations.

The fate of the war has not yet been decided. I began my
story with the guns of Poland still echoing in my ears. We
wrote the last chapter while the anti-aircraft shells were burst
ing in the sky over London. Polish forces are continuing the
fight on land and sea and in the air. As long as there is one
soldier left under arms our faith and confidence in the final
issue remains unshaken. As my husband said once before . . .
"Our faith is our greatest strength. . . "

ALEXANDRA PILSXJDSKA

CONTENTS

PART ONE

BLIGHTED HARVEST
9

PART TWO

LOOKING BACK

55

PART THREE

THAT CERTAIN PILSUDSKI
107

PART FOUR

THE WHITE EAGLE
167

INDEX
345

PART ONE

*
BLIGHTED HARVEST

"To be vanquished and not surrender that is victory"

MARSHAL PILSUDSKI

CHAPTER I

THERE WAS not a cloud to darken the sky on that morning
of the sixth of August in the year nineteen hundred and
thirty-nine, and as I motored along the road from Warsaw to
Cracow the riches of the Polish countryside lay spread out
before me. Field upon field of wheat and barley threaded with
the scarlet of poppies and the deep blue of lupins stretching
far across the plains to the distant horizon; acres of gently
rolling pastureland fringed with forests of pine and oak; the
pale, ethereal beauty of flax ready to be gathered and sent to
the great looms of Wilno; the homeliness of farms and peas
ant holdings, of earth reclaimed from the barren plains, tilled
and cultivated into fertility, of tomatoes ripening in the sun,
and wine-red cabbages still glistening with the morning s dew.
There had never been such a harvest within living memory,
said the old people. Even the fruit trees lining the road be
tween Warsaw and Kielce were laden almost to the ground
with their burden of apples, cherries and plums; every cot
tage garden was a blaze of sunflowers and sweet peas.

Dawn was just breaking as I left the outskirts of Warsaw
and for the first few miles I drove through a silent world of
grey shadows and sleeping villages. Then the sun rose over
the distant hills dappling the long avenues of chestnuts and
beeches, and with much crowing of cocks and lowing of cattle
the country awoke to a new day.

As the morning wore on, the roads became crowded with
carts and farm wagons of every description. Some of them
were primitive affairs, rough wooden benches stretched across
creaking wheels, but the floor of each one had been lined
with fresh straw and covered with a carpet of rainbow hue
woven by the women of the household. The horses had been
brushed and groomed for the occasion with a care that might
have been expended on a racing stable, and tossed their heads
in the sunlight as though conscious of the significance of the

n

12 PILSUDSKI

flowers and ribbons plaited into their glossy manes. The Polish
peasant s most cherished possession is his horse, and in hard
times he and the rest of the family will uncomplainingly go
short of food so that they can afford its upkeep,

We passed through thriving manufacturing towns where
looms were silent while the workpeople streamed out into
the squares and cafes bent on the fullest enjoyment of the
holiday, and through little villages decorated with flags and
triumphal arches and gay with the laughter of peasants in
traditional gala dress, for it was a great day in Poland. The
twenty-fifth anniversary of the Legions,

I had promised to be present at the celebrations in Cracow,
and as I drove over the familiar road from Warsaw my thoughts
went back to that other time when the first Polish Legions
had crossed the frontier, driven back the Russian troops and
regained the land that had been stripped from us. Twenty-
five years ago, though it seemed only yesterday! I could re
member almost every inch of the way. There had been no
laughing crowds then, only men and women, silent and grimly
determined, knowing that they were braving death or exile
to Siberia, their eyes straining into the distance after the little
force that had gone forth with my husband riding at its head
to meet the Czar s picked regiments- Not even to ourselves
would we admit how slender had seemed its chance of success
that day. Ill-equipped, only half-trained, the cavalry on their
sorry mounts, the infantry shouldering the old out-dated
rifles which the Austrian Government had thought good
enough for the Polish Franc Tireurs. The poorest and the
shabbiest army in Europe, but the first that Poland had raised
and sent into the field since the long past days of her splendour,
and all our hopes were centred on it. Hour after hour we had
waited for news in an agony of suspense, but none had come
and so it had needed some resolution to carry out our plan.
For it had been decided that I and one or two other women
chosen to act as couriers and carry out various duties behind
the lines, in order to release every available man for service
in the field, were to cross the frontier later that day in the
wake of the army. The more we had thought of it the less we
had liked the prospect of that silent and empty roadt lying

BLIGHTED HARVEST 13

ahead of us. The road that might lead to Siberia, But we
had had to face it, and just as the sun began to sink we, too,
had set forth into the unknown, a straggling little company
of civilians, looking neither heroic nor dignified, packed tightly
into a country cart with our baggage piled up around us.

So long ago! Yet I remembered it all so vividly that I
could still feel the hard outline of the printing press I had
taken with me in the cart digging into my knees. How we
had laughed at the funny picture we presented for we had
been young then, and the young can always laugh in the face
of danger and uncertainty. Our confidence had been justified
for at Slomniki we had come upon a small band of Legionaries
who had told us that the road ahead was clear. The Russian
patrols were in flight.

Yet as I sat back in the car I was glad that those days
of storm and striving were over and that I would not have to
live through them again. The intervening years had brought
peace and prosperity to Poland for the little army that had
gone forth to challenge the might of Russia had been victori
ous. The old frontier we had crossed twenty-five years ago
ft^ffias abolished, the lands that had once lain beyond it on both
i its borders were Polish territory again. Those fields of yellow
^ripening wheat covered the scars of battle; the young men
^ and girls who waved to us from the orchards were the new
A* generation which had known neither the turmoil of the fight
nor the sweets of victory, for the freedom we had won so
hardly was their heritage. I turned my eyes from the glowing
plains to the monument standing by the roadside to the men
I of the Polish Legions who had fallen in the war. On that an-
f* niversary morning they seemed no longer dead, they were still
(None with the new Poland which they had created and never
lived to see.

My thoughts came back to the present when we reached
Cracow and drove through the wide market-place with its
mediaeval arcades lined with shops selling a variety of wares.
There, too, were flags and decorations and holiday crowds;
business men and their families, soberly-attired clerks and
students from the University, Legionaries proudly escorting
admiring womenfolk in gala dress of embroidered bodices and

14 PILSUDSKI

voluminous frilled skirts, young farmers stiff and self-conscious
in their Sunday suits and tight boots, tall mountaineers from
the Zakopane in their picturesque white breeches, sheepskin
coats and sandals.

We drove through the noise and bustle of the market-place
to the field just outside the town where the Legions, eighteen
thousand men, had assembled to hear Mass which was cele
brated at an altar erected on the grass. I looked at them as they
knelt there in their ranks, dressed in their grey-blue uniforms,
their Maciejowka caps held in their hands, their heads bowed
in prayer, and that picture will be for ever engraved on my
memory for never again was I to see them thus. White-haired
men, veterans who had served under my husband, round-faced
boys straight out of the military training schools, they knelt
there, side by side, while the Driest prayed for f>eace. An army
born of sorrow and oppression and the longings of an en
slaved people. An army that was so soon to know the bitter
ness of defeat.

The Mass was followed by a parade at which Marshal Rydz-
Smigly took the salute and gave a short address. He spoke of
the coming issue when Poland would have to make her choice
between submission and the surrender of everything she had
gained, and fighting for her independence however great the
cost. He was answered in one voice from those thousands - ,
"Let us fight." There was no bravado in the words, only an
unshakable determination. I looked at the men who had ut
tered them and thought once again of those first Legions who
had crossed the frontier twenty-five years before. Tneir faces,
too, had reflected that same resolution. They had conquered
and laid aside their arms believing that they had secured peace
and the right to freedom for those who came after them. But
it had only been a brief respite, for now another generation
would have to take up the sword.

Several of our Ministers were present at the official luncheon
which was held after the parade, although they were anxious
to hurry back to Warsaw where the defence preparations
were being put through with the utmost speed. Those* who
talked to me did not attempt to hide the gravity of the
situation. None of them believed that there was any possibility

BLIGHTED HARVEST 15

of averting war. Colonel Beck, who was still making ceaseless
efforts to negotiate with Germany, had repeatedly intimated
the willingness of Poland to arrive at a peaceful settlement
over the question of Danzig, but neither Hitler nor von Ribben-
trop had shown the slightest desire to compromise. It was obvi
ous that Danzig was merely a pretext to cloak Hitler s designs,
and that even if we were prepared to cede it we could only
expect a repetition of Czechoslovakia s fate. The attacks upon
us in the Nazi press were almost identical with those launched
against the Czechs the year before, and the whole campaign
had evidently been planned on parallel lines.

Thus the stage was already set for that war with Germany
which had been my husband s constant dread, for he had
known it to be inevitable sooner or later. We had never had
any illusions as to the perils of Poland s position since her geo
graphical situation made her a barrier to the expansion of both
Germany and Russia. Under my husband s guidance all our
foreign policy had been directed towards maintaining a balance
between these two Powers, but he never lost sight of the menace
behind Germany s insistent clamour for the return of Danzig
and the Corridor. Again and again he played for time to en
able Poland to build up her defences. Even in the last years
of his life when his health was beginning to fail he rallied all
his energies to establish some lasting basis for peace, and with
the signing of the ten-year non-aggression pact with Hitler
he beUeved he had succeeded. After his death Marshal Rydz-
Smigly and Colonel Beck had pursued the same line of policy
and our relations with Germany had been friendly enough,
at least on the surface. Then without warning Hitler had re
vived the old demand for Danzig, a pretext for forcing us into
a war for which we were unprepared.

We had existed as an independent state for twenty-five years
only, and twenty-five years is a short time in the history of na
tions. We had had to struggle for our very survival and devote
such resources as we had to repairing the havoc of the last war,
not preparing for another. Without credit, without an ex
chequer, without at first even a currency, we had had neither
the money to pay for elaborate defences nor the time in which
to construct them. And now, with so much still left undone,

l6 PILSUDSKI

we were to be faced with a foe many times our strength.

Later that afternoon I drove up the hill to the ancient Wawel
Castle, which has been the setting for so many of the scenes in
Poland s stormy history, and the last resting-place of her kings
and heroes. My husband s tomb is there and I wanted to visit
it on this of all days.

Afterwards I went on to the terrace and stood looking down
at the city spread out below encircled with its green girdle of
trees. It was beautiful, I thought, seen thus with the rays of
the sun blending its green and red roofs into a shimmering opal,
gilding the spires and domes of its many churches. And for
miles beyond it stretched fields and orchards interspersed with
villages, clusters of lime-washed houses, blue and white and
shining like alabaster.

From down below came the sound of music and the laugh
ter of the crowds determined, because it was a holiday and
the sun had never shone more brightly, to forget the menac
ing shadow of Germany. The city of Cracow has sent forth
its sons to fight in many wars. It might have been just such a
summer s day as this, I thought, in the year 1410 when thejr had
ridden out to give battle to the Order of the Teutonic Knights
at Griinwald. Now Poland would go to war again in a new
cause that was still the old cause. But could history repeat it
self in an age when the issue of battles was decided not by
valour but by numbers and economic resources? I remem
bered how often my husband had deplored the modern sys
tem of mass warfare with its elimination of the personal ele
ment and its vast wastage of "cannon-f odder." Only a few days
before I had been going through some of his papers which 1
was collecting for publication and had found these notes. * . .

"Mass strategy which has for its essential the uniting of
millions of combatants in a constantly collaborating mass . . *
gave no definite results in the World War- After various at
tempts it petered into immobility and impotence. Movement
was overcome by the power of the trench and by the material
forces which the adversaries were able to bring against one
another. Consequently there was the struggle against the trench,
the struggle against the obstacle to movement, the power
of which had been so considerably restricted. . , * Every at-

BLIGHTED HARVEST IJ

tempt to break down the trench system and revert to a war
of movement was made at the price of sacrifices that were be
yond computation enormous. ... I remember Marechal Pe-
tain one day showing me the blood-stained hills round Verdun
and telling me that nearly a million men were lying on those
shell-swept slopes. A million men gone without a trace, so ut
terly eliminated that often the very bones of the adversaries
were intermingled! . . . These were the gigantic hecatombs
necessary for the re-creation of a war of movement which has
been lost in the sombre gulf of the trenches! . . . I thought in
that moment that not only was war degenerating but that it
should disappear for ever. From the moment that movement,
once the main factor of victory, had been lost sight of, war be
came a foul absurdity, a savage method of exterminating men. I
could not think that humanity would be capable of passing
through such an experience again or that it would ever again
consent to upset the life of a whole country for the sole purpose
of feeding the trench! Strategy and tactics would with veiled
faces be reduced to taking account of the slain, and only from
this appalling balance could some idea of victory be obtained.

"I was happy in those days in the trenches because I thought
that war was destined to disappear and the nightmare which
had for so long hung over so many generations of men would
end by destroying itself. War would so profoundly degenerate
that through the very horror of this mechanical massacre of
men art, which could not make a lovely thing of war, would
rouse against war even its most fervent partisans. And so war,
with all its terrible consequences, would disappear. This would
be some consolation, too, for my country which had been so
conspicuous a victim of war!

"But at the same time I regretted the passing of the art which
has been part of the history of man for so many thousands of
years. The art of war which has produced so many great men,
men in whom the conception of brute force had forged so won
derful a power that out of the victories which they won were
born legends which have endured for centuries. Would hu
manity find some other means to simplify the historic art of
warfare? How many times in the mud of the trenches I asked
myself that question! * . . .

l8 PILSUDSKI

After the F6te of the Legions I went with my daughters to
our little country estate at Kamienny Dwor. In the peace of
the garden with its scent of lime trees and jasmine, surrounded
by the simple life of the village, it was easy to forget the
shadow of war. The harvest had just been gathered and in ob
servance of a custom so old that it probably had its origin in
some dim pagan rite, the first sheaf of wheat had been carried
into the house with great ceremony and laid by the hearth,
covering the sheaf of the previous year . . to ensure twelve
months of plenty and good crops.

Our return was celebrated with a harvest supper to which
the farm labourers and tenantry had been looking forward
for weeks, for the life of the Polish peasant is hard, and festive
occasions are few and much prized. The proceedings opened
with a procession to the house which was led by the youngest
and prettiest of the girl reapers who presented me with a big
bouquet of wheat and flowers, while the rest stood in a circle
and sang the old traditional song of the harvest. Then we all
repaired to the garden where tables set out under the trees
were laden with pink home-cured hams, country cheeses of
the dimensions or cartwheels, enormous pies and cakes and
bowls of kissel, foaming Jugs of home-brewed beer and cider*
After plates had been emptied and more songs had been sung
the village band two violins, a double bass and a concertina-
got out their instruments and struck up the first mazurka which
was led by my daughter Wanda and the blacksmith. It was
followed by a waltz, then a polka, then another mazurka, for
the modern wave of jazz has not yet reached the Polish coun
try districts and the name of Gershwin is still unknown. But
the band were not conscious of any limitation in their reper
toire and neither were the young people, for they dancea on
the lawn till the light of the stars was dimmed by the faint
glimmer of dawn.

As I watched them whirling in the gay lilt of the mazurka,
I thought that here was a part of the real wealth of Poland,
these young peasants with their happy faces and strong bodies:
these and the rich fertile lands that they tilled. But then
there rose before my eyes the vision of the vast armament
works of Skoda and Essen, of machines that were never silent,

BLIGHTED HARVEST 19

of mighty furnaces pouring out night and day their streams
of molten iron and steel to be fashioned into weapons of de
struction. Was this generation, too, doomed even as mine had
been?

The days passed in a round of simple tasks and simple pleas
ures. We baked bread and cakes, made jam and preserved fruit
and vegetables, brewed cider from the apples in the orchard
and liqueurs from sloes and peaches.

There was great rejoicing when one of my maidservants
was married from the house. Weddings, christenings and fu
nerals are the main interests of the countryside and peasants
from miles around arrived for the festivities. Every one in the
district who had a cart of any description lent it for the occa
sion so that the procession to the church should be an imposing
one, a good augury for the future.

After the bride had been dressed with due ceremony and
escorted downstairs by all the young girls in the party, the
chief bridesmaid presented the bridegroom with the customary
bouquet of myrtle, and the procession was ready to start for
the church. In that part of Poland there is a strict precedent
for this stage of the proceedings. The bride has to remain
standing at the front door and see that each guest in turn is
seated in the long row of carts. When the last cart is filled
she must ask formally: "Is all ready and in order?" and on
receiving an affirmative reply she must give the signal for the
procession to start. Only then can she take her own place in
the cart,

Maria, my maid, being a stranger to the neighbourhood and
knowing nothing of the custom, got into the first of the car
riages and was driven off with her bridegroom before the guests
had even begun to seat themselves, a flouting of tradition which
spread dismay and confusion throughout the whole wedding-
party* A wrinkled old grandmother came up to me shaking her
head ominously. . . . She has not fulfilled the order, Madame,
and now her life will be disordered. I have seen it happen be
fore and always trouble has come of it." . .

I told her not to be so foolish and said that the poor girl
could not possibly be blamed for breaking a tradition she had
not even heard of. But I could see that she did not believe me*

20 PILSUDSKI

Scarcely a week later I heard sobs and lamentations in the
kitchen and went out to investigate. Maria, the bride, was
seated on a chair, her apron over her head as she rocked herself
to and fro in an abandonment of grief. Her husband had gone
to join his regiment. He and most of the other young men in
the village had received mobilization orders that morning.

I hurried to the telephone and put through a call to Warsaw.
All lines were engaged and I had to wait several hours, but at
length I managed to speak to one of our friends, a colonel, who
later played an heroic part in the defence of Lwow. He could
only confirm Maria s news. The Germans had concentrated
immense numbers of troops along the frontier even though
negotiations were still proceeding. The attack could be ex
pected at any moment and we were mobilizing with all possible
speed.

War was upon us.

CHAPTER 11

MY DAUGHTERS and I decided to go back to Warsaw imme
diately for the various women s organizations to which we be
longed would be needing all their helpers. We packed a few
necessities and caught the next train. It was hours behind time
and so crowded with reservists recalled to the colours and fam
ilies whose summer holidays had been interrupted hurrying
back to their homes that we despaired of getting into a com
partment, until three soldiers gave up their seats to us and joined
the long queues in the corridor. At every stopping-place the
confusion increased as more and more people fought their way
into the carriages. Most of them were bewildered by the sud
den turn of events, asking questions which we could not answer
for we knew no more than they. All sorts of rumours flew along
the train. Some said that the Nazi troops had already crossed
the frontier, others that the mobilization was purely a precau
tionary measure and that a treaty would be signed with Ger
many within the next twenty-four hours.

Every little country station had its group of recruits, stal
wart young peasants bidding farewell to weeping wives and
mothers, and at the big junctions we were held up for long
waits in sidings while troop train after troop train flashed by on
its way to the front. Where the main roads ran parallel with the
railway line we saw more troops, columns of infantry on the
march, detachments of cavalry, convoys of petrol lorries and
ammunition wagons. Squadrons of aeroplanes roared over our
heads and disappeared into the distance.

From many of the fields we passed the labourers had been
called up before the harvest had been gathered and the corn
was left half -cut, withering under the fierce sun. In others
women and children were trying to get it in, loading their
sheaves on to overflowing hand carts for most of the farm
wagons had already been requisitioned. We saw long strings of
them going towards Warsaw laden with provisions and fodder.

22 PILSUDSKI

Everywhere there were signs of haste and emergency, of
preparations still uncompleted, of a nation taken unawares. I
remembered my husband s distrust of hurried mobilization and
how he had always dreaded it for Poland, holding that in mod
ern warfare the nation able to devote the time and the money
to long and detailed preparation entered the field with an al
most overwhelming advantage. Only a few years before he had
written . . .

"The armed forces of all states remain during time of
peace in an embryonic condition, more or less developed,
never entirely completed. But from the moment the modern
highly organized state proclaims mobilization it employs the
whole technical, administrative and cultural services which
exist in time of peace for non-military purposes* Therefore
this immense technical machine-railroads, telephones must
interrupt its normal peacetime function and Become for a
while the monopoly of the army. The vast administrative
organization built for the routine of peacetime schools, fac
tories, and various large establishments must be taken over
by the state for military purposes. Even the police must give
up all their other functions in order to serve the cause of
war.

"In a word the state must stop its whole peacetime ac
tivities until the army reaches the Front. Only in this way,
by exploiting this technical machine, exploiting the legal
obligations of the citizens, can the modern military force be
mobilized. But it cannot be done in a hurry. It should take
weeks, even months."

On arriving at Warsaw we drove straight to the small house
where I have lived with my daughters since the death of my
husband and which is situated within a stone s throw of the
Belvedere Palace, our official residence during his years as In
spector and Minister of War. (But I must accustom myself to
writing and thinking of this pleasant little house in the past
tense For it has been completely demolished by a shell Only
the lovely old garden and the fruit trees are left standing to
show that it was once a home,)

BLIGHTED HARVEST 23

I lost no time in telephoning to the diff erent Social Welfare
organizations of which I was President. All of them were over
whelmed with work and in urgent need of helpers. The Com
munal Kitchens were especially over-taxed, for in addition to
their normal peacetime function of feeding hundreds of old
people, unemployed and children, they had to supply canteens
for troops at all the principal stations. I made such arrange
ments as I could over the telephone and promised to be at my
headquarters next day, and my elder daughter Wanda left to
report for duty at the Red Cross.

The sun went down in a great globe of fire over Warsaw
that evening. I walked through the gardens of the Belvedere
Palace, empty now and rather desolate in its grandeur for it
had been turned into a museum. I had never cared very much
for its massive seventeenth-century architecture and I remem
bered that -I had been full of misgivings when we had first gone
to live there, and dreaded the receptions I should have to hold
in its cold, formal salons. But our own rooms had been sim
ple and comfortable, the long galleries had seemed less gloomy
when my children played in them, and after a while it had be
come home.

I looked up at the room that had been my husband s cabi
net de travail where he had so often sat working far into the
night. Its lighted windows had always told me that he was
awake. They were lighted now, bathed in a flood of gold, and
for a moment I had the foolish fancy that he was still there,
even though I knew that it was only the last shafts of the set
ting sun.

We awoke next morning in a city that had been transformed
in the space of a few hours into an armed citadel Anti
aircraft guns were set up in all the public parks, in private
gardens; even the streets, hospitals and First Aid Posts were
fully staffed, and while an endless chain of lorries carried troops
to the Front the entire civilian population rallied to the task
of defence. Those who had no definite duties volunteered for
digging trenches. Elderly business men, students from the
University, sturdy peasants and factory girls, society women
who had never done a day s work in their lives, toiled side by
side in the grilling heat, wielded spades and pickaxes till their

24 PILSUDSKI

hands were blistered and the sweat ran in rivulets down their
faces. When one shift was exhausted another took its place and
so they continued without interruption day and night. They
worked silently and stoically and they worked well, for the
deep earth trenches they dug proved to be the most effectual
form of shelter in a bombardment such as we experienced and
thousands of lives were saved by them.

The gay optimism of the past few weeks had given place to
a fixed resolution, a great unity of purpose that spread through
out the city. Even the school-children marching through the
streets on their way to dig trenches carried banners on which
they had printed . . . "Death Rather Than Slavery to Ger
many." . . . Young as they were they understood the mean
ing of the words for they had played for as long as they could
remember in a playground over whose gate was carved . , *
"Laugh, children of Poland, laugh and be happy in that new
born freedom which your fathers never knew, But their ban
ners were sadly prophetic for hundreds of them were killed by
the German bombers.

At half-past six on the morning of September ist we
were awakened by the sirens. We dressed hurriedly and went
to the nearest shelter, the trenches in the garden of the Bel
vedere, where we were joined by women and children from
the neighbouring houses, gardeners and other employees of the
museum and a few labourers who had been caught on their
way to work. But although we waited for over an hour there
was no sight nor sound of the raiders, and coming to the
conclusion that the warning had been only a test we returned
home. Just outside our door we met Marshal Rydz-Smtgly s
aide-de-camp.

"What was it?" I asked him . . . "A false alarm? M

"No," he answered heavily . . "War," And told us that
there had actually been a raid and that although our airmen
had intercepted the enemy and driven them back from War
saw several bombs had been dropped on the towns of Czesto-
chowa and Lack.

After breakfast I went to the headquarters of the Welfare
Organization where I found several helpers waiting for me*
But we had only been there a few minutes when the sirens

BLIGHTED HARVEST 25

warned us of another raid and we were forced to spend the rest
of the morning in the trenches. This time the enemy machines
succeeded in getting past our defences. The noise of the en
gines roaring through the clouds over our heads was punc
tuated by the ear-splitting crash of the anti-aircraft guns
firing from the corner of the square only a few yards away
from us. Then a volume of cheering from the crowds who,
ignoring the official instructions, persisted in remaining in
the street announced the arrival of our own fighters and the
enemy was driven off without having accomplished any serious
damage.

We left our shelter and dispersed for lunch, intending to
get through our arrears of work in the afternoon. But at half-
past two the bombers came over again, and again at four
o clock. And after that again, and still again, always in waves
and in ever-increasing numbers. So like every one else in
Warsaw I had to reconcile myself to dividing my day between
frenzied activity in the short respite after the "All clear" had
sounded, when the whole city reverted to normal life and tried
to make up for the time that had been lost, and taking cover in
a variety of shelters. Sometimes it was in one of the public
trenches, sometimes the vestibule of a hotel or other big build
ing. Frequently it was in the house of complete strangers who
extended their hospitality to me and to any other passers-by
who hurried in from the street as though it was the most
ordinary thing in the world. Once I remember taking refuge
in a teashop for nearly two hours during one of the worst
and most prolonged raids, and all that time the orchestra went
on playing through the terrific din and the people drank tea
and ate cakes as though they were unaware of anything hap
pening outside.

The shortage of transport was one of the minor discomforts
to which we had to accustom ourselves. Every private car
which had not been commandeered was urgently needed for
the Red Cross or one of the other war organizations, taxis
were unobtainable because of the petrol shortage and the
majority of the motor buses were transporting troops. The
few which were still running and all the tramcars were so
crowded that it was practically impossible to get into them,

26 PILSUDSKI

and after waiting an hour or more in vain one generally ended
by walking to one s destination. As I had given over our own
car to Wanda who was collecting supplies for the Red Cross
I had to tramp for miles on that first evening of the war before
I arrived home.

I had only been in the house a few minutes when the tele
phone rang. It was a call from the matron of the Home for
crippled and tubercular children which I had founded in the
suburb of Otwock, fifteen miles distant from Warsaw, and she
had terrible news to give me.

The Nazi airmen, driven off Warsaw by our anti-aircraft fire
and unwilling to return to their base without winning their
spurs, had flown round the undefended suburbs and dropped
several bombs at random* As they passed over the Home, fly
ing so low that they only just cleared the housetops, the chil
dren who were out in the playing-field had stopped their game
and waved up to them, not knowing that they were enemies.
Their answer had been a bomb which had missed our house
and fallen on the Children s Hospital next door, killing fifteen
of the little patients and injuring many more.

This was one of the blackest incidents of the early days
of the war but it was only the first of many, for the Nazi,
true to the old German theory of "Frightfulness," began their
campaign with the clear intention of breaking down the
morale of the civilians, and ten mothers weeping over the
mangled bodies of their children can do more towards accom
plishing that end than the loss of an entire division in battle.
So on the same principle the bombers visited Komarow, a
peaceful little residential suburb of neat villas and well-kept
gardens with a population composed of elderly retired people
and the wives and children of Warsaw business men who
were accustomed to spend week-ends there. It was completely
defenceless, without even a public trench, for there had seemed
no possibility of its ever being attacked. Yet on the second day
of the war the Nazi airmen swooped down upon it like giant
birds of prey. Unopposed they dropped twenty bombs on its
neat little villas and machine-gunned women shopping and old
men working in their gardens. By nightfall Komarow had be
come a place of mourning.

BLIGHTED HARVEST 27

In the first week of the war the suburbs and small outlying
towns suffered most severely, for the German bombers were
repeatedly driven back from Warsaw by anti-aircraft fire and
by our own fighters, though these latter were nearly always
heavily outnumbered. Once I watched eight of our planes rout
twenty-five of the enemy.

I was serving meals at one of the military depots a little
distance from the Central Station when I heard the sirens.
The raids had been almost incessant since early morning and
as I could already hear the engines overhead I decided that it
would be safer to stay where I was than to go out to the shelter.
A moment later twenty-five aeroplanes came sweeping across
the sky in close German formation, wing-tip to wing-tip, fly
ing very high to keep out of the range of the guns. As they
passed over the station they dived. The first bomb dropped
. . . and missed its mark. Columns of dust and bricks flung
high into the air showed that it had fallen on a house in the
next street and a long tongue of flame shot skywards. The
anti-aircraft guns boomed, puffs of smoke like white clouds
rose into the blue sky and showers of shrapnel fell into the
streets.

Then from across the city eight of our little fighter planes
came roaring into action and engaged the enemy, driving a
wedge through their close ranks. People ran out into the road
forgetful of their own danger to watch the combat going on
thousands of feet above them, as the opposing machines soared
and dived in long graceful arcs, beautiful in movement as a
flight of swans. Suddenly one of the bombers burst into flames
and spun earthwards in a headlong dive and a moment later
we saw trails of smoke coming from two others. Then the
raiders wheeled round and with our fighters still in pursuit dis
appeared into the west.

There were many such successes in the early stages of the
war before the German Air Force s overwhelming superiority
in numbers broke down our resistance. Our pilots were as well-
trained as the Nazis and were certainly not lacking in courage,
but we had not enough machines for them to fly. Our anti
aircraft guns were of the best design and proved their worth
by the heavy toll they took of enemy aircraft, but there were

28 PILSUDSKI

too few of them. History has demonstrated again and again
that a nation s chances of victory in warfare depend not only
on her fighting men but on the money behind them, and of
money Poland had never had enough. From the earliest days
of our existence as an independent state we had been forced to
pinch and pare like a needy housewife and to practise petty
economies on a large scale. In opposition to Germany who
had for years devoted all her resources to rearmament and
whose exchequer was swollen by the confiscated funds of Aus
tria and Czechoslovakia we were under a crippling handi
cap.

History will, I believe, find two main causes for our defeat.
Our poverty and the vast network of espionage with which
we were surrounded. It would be almost impossible to over
estimate the importance of this factor.

In proportion to our population of thirty-five millions a
total number of 741,000 Germans residing in Poland did not
appear too serious to be reckoned with. But our real menace
came not so much from these acknowledged Germans as from
the hundreds of families avowedly Polish by naturalization
and by long residence but of German descent and wholly
German sympathies. Many of them had settled in Poland a
century, or even two centuries before, had intermarried with
Poles and had never even visited Germany. But so strong and
so persistent is Teutonic blood that when the crucial moment
came they betrayed without a qualm the land which had shel
tered them and reverted to their far distant ancestry. This
was especially true of the younger generation, for the heart
of youth with its love for pageantry and its instinct for hero-
worship is fertile soil for the Nazi regime. So while the older
people among these German-Polish families would have been
content enough in the event of war to consider themselves as
Polish, or at least to remain passive in their pro-German sym
pathies, their sons were ardent Nazis filled with all the fire of
the Crusader, eager to be absorbed into the Reich. And in con
sequence there were bitter family quarrels and houses were
divided among themselves.

But from the ranks of these young Polish Nazis many of
Hitler s spies were drawn-

BLIGHTED HARVEST 29

For some time before his death my husband had foreseen
this danger of espionage, particularly where the army was con
cerned, for there were serving in it a number of officers and
men drawn from these German minorities. He took the most
stringent precautions to prevent information which could pos
sibly be of use to an enemy from falling into their hands, and
would never under any circumstances allow important docu
ments and official correspondence to pass out of his own keep
ing even into the custody of his most trusted officers. When
he was obliged to work late at night it was his custom to
sleep on a camp bed in his office at the Inspectorate to avoid
the necessity of bringing home his papers to the Belvedere, a
distance of three minutes! The key of his bureau was always
kept in his own pocket except when he was actually at work
and then it lay on the desk before him within reach of his
hand. But even so there was a steady leakage of official se
crets, and at the time of his fatal illness he was engaged on
plans for a comb-out of foreigners serving in the Polish forces.
Unfortunately he did not live to complete them.

With the outbreak of war the potential danger of espionage
developed into an acute menace, for the most vital secrets of
our defences were betrayed to the Germans before the first
shot was fired. The Nazi method has invariably been to
first undermine the country which is to be attacked by propa
ganda and treachery from within, and Poland s mixed nation
alities rendered her especially vulnerable to both these weap
ons. The Gestapo had its agents spread over the entire country
in a vast organization which extended even to the humblest
villages. These hundreds of spies, men and women in every
walk of life, from professional men and even public officials of
seemingly blameless loyalty, to workmen and labourers, had
been maturing their plans for months in the separate localities
to which they were assigned, and consequently from the very
commencement of hostilities the whole espionage machine
was functioning smoothly. Troop movements were reported,
lines of communication cut and bridges blown up according
to program. The exact position of each of our most care
fully concealed air bases had been betrayed with the result
that they were subjected to mass raids of German aircraft

30 PILSUDSKI

which destroyed most of the machines while they were on the
ground.

Dozens of these spies were arrested In different parts of
the country and brought before the tribunals. Usually they
were people to whom no breath of suspicion had been attached.
One of the principal organizations in Warsaw had its head
quarters in the house of a prominent business man whose fam
ily, though originally of German descent, had been resident
in the city for nearly a century. An apparently simple old
marble engraver who had practised his trade in a cottage out
side the cemetery at Wilno for fif teen years was found on being
put under arrest to have been the master spy controlling a score
of Gestapo agents, both men and women, all of whom were
engaged in furnishing information to the enemy.

The colonel of one of our cavalry regiments told me that
whenever the division had taken up new positions at night spies
in their own ranks had signalled their movements to enemy
aircraft by means of flares- Two of his non-commissioned of
ficers had actually been caught during a halt in the act of lay
ing dynamite to destroy a bridge which the regiment would
have to cross.

An officer on Marshal Rydz-Smigly s staff told me that a
spy had caused disastrous confusion and delay during the most
critical stage of the defence of Warsaw by posing as a Polish
staff officer and diverting a whole txainload of ammunition
which was on its way to the Front so that it ultimately reached
German lines.

CHAPTER HI

THE CITY of Warsaw has survived .many wars. Time and
again its name has been written in letters of flames across the
pages of Poland s stormy history, and its people have a proud
tradition of endurance. The old walls that had been pounded
by the cannon of the Swedes in the iyth century stood firm
under the assaults of Hitler s bombers. The streets that had
become a shambles when the Russian General Suvaroff en
tered the city after the siege of 1794 and butchered twelve
thousand of its citizens ran once again with blood a century
and a half later, but the new generation of defenders resisted,
even as their ancestors had resisted, to the end. So every day
the toll of killed and injured increased as the bombs rained upon
Warsaw.

Yet in spite of them the life of the city continued. Even
when half the houses had been reduced to jagged stumps of
bricks and mortar and smouldering wood business men still
went to their offices, cinemas and caf6s remained open and in
hundreds of homes the ordinary routine went on. And every
day Mr. S. Starzynski, the Mayor of Warsaw, broadcast his
courageous message from the ruins of his city. For years he
had devoted all his energies to its development, to beautifying
its poorer quarters and abolishing its slums. Its destruction
meant the destruction of his own life s work.

As the days passed the raids became more and more fre
quent until there were intervals of only an hour or even less
between them. The only respite we could count on was be
tween midnight and dawn. But very few people could afford
to waste those four or five precious hours in sleep. Instead we
worked frantically, making the most of every minute. The
wounded were attended to, the dead buried, and ammunition
factories were kept at full blast until the sirens sent every one
hurrying to the shelters.

One of the bombs which caused the worst casualties fell

3*

32 PILSUDSKI

on the Eastern railway station. Our welfare organization
had a depot and kitchen there and I had intended to go on
duty that afternoon, but as I was leaving the house Wanda
asked me to wait for her. She and one of her friends were
also going to the station to deliver cigarettes and stores for
the Red Cross and she suggested that we might all drive
down together. The ten minutes delay probably saved my
life for just as we were loading our packages into the car there
was another air raid warning, and we went over to the trenches
at the Belvedere, where we were obliged to remain nearly
two hours for the German planes kept returning to the attack
in relays.

While the raid was at its height there was a terrific explosion
and even from our shelter we could see clouds of dust and
great pieces of iron hurled into the air, The man standing next
to me tried to tell me something but I could not understand
him for the pandemonium of the anti-aircraft guns made speech
impossible.

At length, after what seemed interminable hours, the "All
clear" sounded. We went back to the house and began to
collect our stores again. The telephone rang and I went to
answer it. The call was from one of the helpers at our de
pot at the Eastern station. In a voice renderea absolutely ex
pressionless by shock she asked me to come to the station
immediately and to bring a doctor if I could find one, and a
supply of morphia and dressings, A bomb had fallen on the
station. Sixteen of the women and girls on duty there had
been killed and the rest seriously injured* She and another
woman who had been cooking in an out-building at the back
were the only ones who had escaped, They had tried to tele
phone to several of the First Aid Posts but without success for
most of the important lines of communication had already been
cut by spies.

Wanda met me as I turned away from the telephone. I sup
pose she read disaster in my face for she asked only the one
word: "Where?" "On the Eastern station,* I answered; "A di
rect hit. We have to find a doctor*"

All the colour left her face, for among those on duty at
the depot had been several of our own mends, but she got

BLIGHTED HARVEST 33

into the cax without speaking and started up the engine. We
passed through streets that were almost blocked by the wreck
age of fallen buildings, strewn with tiles and bricks and broken
glass and where the houses were still smouldering, filling the
air with the acrid smoke of charred wood. Fire engines were
drawn up in front of some of them and ambulance men were
carrying out stretchers covered with white sheets, hiding that
which had been the image of God defaced by the work of
Man.

We drove past a block of offices, one of the finest modern
buildings in Europe. A crowd of women and children were
still sheltering there for it was considered to be the safest refuge
in the city. But a few days later a 500 Ib. bomb cut through
its eight stories of granite and marble as easily as though it
had been made of papier-mach6 and levelled it to the earth.
Nearly two hundred people were trapped in its cellars, but al
though firemen, aided by gangs of volunteers, worked des
perately with cranes and crowbars trying to lift the vast mass
of stone, not one was found alive.

We passed through one of the fashionable thoroughfares
where shop fronts had been torn off and plate glass windows
shattered. Furs and silk; stockings and bales of stuff littered
the pavement, and police stood guarding the wreckage of
jewellers shops. A picture dealer was wringing his hands
over his scattered canvases. Women were stepping across
the fallen doorpost of a cooked provisions store and waiting
to be served. A caf i opposite had had one of its walls staved in
but it had been patched up and a few old men were sitting
at the tables drinking coffee and reading the newspapers. Far
ther on was a hotel with a hole in its side like a gaping wound
through which broken furniture and tattered wallpaper pro
truded,

In some of the streets in the poor quarters of the town
the bombs had dug great craters in the road and scarcely a
house was left standing. The big block of workmen s model
flats, of which we had been so proud that we always took
visiting foreigners to see it, was razed to the earth. Whole
families were patiently digging in the debris trying to rescue
the few sticks and bits of rurniture which were all that

34 PILSUDSKI

remained of their homes. An old woman was limping out of
the bare husk of a house triumphantly waving an undamaged
picture.

At last we found a doctor who was just returning home
hollow-eyed and haggard after a long spell of duty at one of
the hospitals. Although he had had no sleep for five nights
he came with us immediately. But by the time we reached
the station the ambulances had already been there and the
injured had been removed to hospital, so there was nothing
for us to do except to break the news to the relatives of those
who had been killed. Among the dead were several little Girl
Guides and the grief of the poor mothers was heartrending
to witness.

In looking back I sometimes wonder how we lived through
the nightmare of those days, yet at the time every one was
calm. Even during the worst raids there was no sign of panic.
I suppose that all of us discovered that there is a merciful
limit to humanity s capacity both for suffering and for fear.
You can be afraid up to a certain point. Unce you have
reached it peace descends upon you either because you draw
upon some spiritual reserve of courage within yourself or
because you become numbed into apathy and cease to react
to emotion. So after the first hours of stunned horror you
found that it was possible not only to endure, but even to
accustom yourself to spending most of the day with death
lurking in the clouds above you, herded in cellars and trenches
that vibrated at each impact of falling masonry; to having
your ears assailed waking and sleeping by a pandemonium
of noise like all the forces of hell let loose; to seeing men
and women mangled beyond recognition. You endured it
not from any false heroics but simply because you had to.
There was no escape from it, That realization and the
work that had to be done by every one in the city kept our
sanity.

To live under the present shadow of death is to understand
the real meaning or life. In the first forty-eight hours of
the war we shed our false values. Our needs were the
primaeval needs of Man. Food, warmth and shelter. Political
feuds and private quarrels were alike forgotten as people

BLIGHTED HARVEST 35

were drawn together by their common danger and sorrow.
All that remained was our mutual responsibility in keeping
going the daily life of the community. We shared whatever
there was to share and our neighbour s trouble became our
own. So when a house was wrecked every one in the vicinity
ran out immediately the "All clear" had sounded to help its
owner in salvaging what was left; people whose homes were
still standing took in those who had not a roof over their heads;
women huddled in the trenches in the chill dawn shared their
fur coats with other women who had none; mothers whose
babies had been killed in their cradles tried to dry their tears
as they suckled the children of dead women. Every day the
peasants left the comparative safety of their homes in the out
lying villages and ran the gauntlet of the raids to bring their
loads of vegetables and provisions to the city. The trains con
tinued to run though they were the special target of the bomb
ers and the splintered wood hung in strips like ribbons from
many of the wagons. Outside the principal stations great
chunks of the railway lines were torn up by the bombs but
gangs of platelayers went out to repair them, working day
and night under a hail of machine-gun bullets from the Nazi
planes. When one man was killed or wounded another came
forward and took his place and the work went on without in
terruption until it was finished.

Centuries of warfare in which Poland has been the battle
ground of Europe have made us a constructive people, given us
a heritage of tenacity and an instinct for repairing that which
is broken. We have had so much practice. Our towns have
been destroyed again and again in successive wars and patiently
rebuilt as many times only to withstand the onslaught of
another foe in another generation. But when the tumult of
battle has passed there has always been some one to repair
the havoc. So in Warsaw the smoke and dust of the bombs
had hardly cleared away before there were people raking in
the ruins, patching and mending houses that were like the
jagged stumps of decayed teeth, making the semblance
of a home though it might only be one room with a
piece of tarpaulin stretched across it to hide the rent in the
roof.

36 PILSUDSKI

The actual measure of time ceased to be of much importance
to us except where it marked the intervals between raids.
One day was so like the next that I lost count of them until
one morning I was awakened very early from the only sleep
I had had for several nights by the insistent ringing of the
telephone. The call was from one of our Generals, an old
friend of my husband s, and he had rung up to beg me to
leave Warsaw with my daughters immediately as the German
Army was now only thirty kilometres from the city. I re
plied that we could not go on account of our work in the
Red Cross but he explained that there would be no object in
our staying as the Government had decided to evacuate the
hospitals and all civilians who had not some urgent reason for
remaining.

I woke my daughters and told them what I had heard and
after discussing the position we agreed to go to our country
house at Kamienny Dwor, which could easily be equipped as
a hospital to accommodate some of the overflow of wounded
evacuated from Warsaw. Then I called in my two servants
and gave them the alternative of coming with us or returning
to their homes. One of them, a peasant from Kamienny Dwor,
chose to go back to her own village, the other crossed herself
and said: Whether I am killed by the Germans or not depends
upon the will of God, but in this city I will remain, and I will
look after the house if you will let me stay in it." And no
argument could dissuade her.

We had arranged to go to Kamienny Dwor that afternoon
but our plans were upset by the news that it was practically
impossible to get there. For some unknown reason the Germans
had chosen to make that peaceful and undefended part of the
countryside a special object of attack Their bombers had al
ready wrecked several trains going there and made such havoc
of the railway lines that further traffic was suspended for the
time being.

We were discussing our best course when a distant rela
tive of mine who was in Warsaw suggested that we should go
to his home in East Poland, Several houses in the neighbour
hood had already been requisitioned as Red Cross hospitals,
his own among them, and helpers were urgently needed; This

BLIGHTED HARVEST 37

seemed an excellent plan for one of my nieces had a manor
there and we could stay with her for the time being.

We started at seven the next morning, myself, my daughters,
my sister and Anna, a young cousin who was expecting her
first baby in a few weeks time. She was very reluctant to leave
Warsaw as her husband was serving in the army and she wanted
to remain as near the Front as possible, but in the end we per
suaded her to accompany us. We set out in two cars, taking
with us only a small amount of personal luggage.

We had decided that it would be safer to drive to our desti
nation than to go by train, for while the indiscriminate bomb
ing of railroads had become an established fact there seemed
no reason to suppose that the German pilots would waste their
ammunition on what were obviously tourist cars filled with
women. We were soon to discover our mistake for the drive
which should normally have taken four hours took instead
nineteen, and most of those hours were spent crouching in
fields and in ditches, in barns and cowsheds by the roadside,
anywhere that offered even a frail shelter.

We drove out of the city in a long file of cars, lorries and
carts packed with women and children, with here and there
a few old men and boys too young for military service. The
pathetic, helpless procession of a civilian populace in flight,
without the dignity of a retreating army. Sad-eyed mothers
and crying babies huddled together with their homely belong
ings piled round them, sewing-machines, perambulators, pots
and pans, crates of chickens.

We were a straggling, unwieldy caravan, and the going
was slow* Towards the middle of the morning we realized that
we were hungry, "We ll stop at the next village and get some
milk," I said* But when we reached it there was no one to
sell us any. We stopped outside farmhouses and cottages but
not a soul was in sight. The market square and the little inn
were deserted. Then we remembered that there had been
no sign of life at the last village, nor at the one before it. The
peasants with the age-old instinct of a primitive people had
fled to the safety of the woods leaving everything behind them,
the cows unmilked and the loaves burning in the oven.

We continued on our way wondering at their sudden flight,

38 PILSUDSKI

but our questions were answered almost before we had voiced
them. Out of the cornflower blue sky came the drone of
engines and a German squadron swooped down upon us. I
heard the sharp crackle of machine-gun nre followed by pitiful
sobs and shrieks from the cars behind us. A second later
and the planes were directly above us, flying only a few feet
over our heads so that we could see every detail of their
markings. The guns crackled again and again, and the driver
of one of the cars just ahead of us threw up his hands and
fell forward over the steering wheel The car plunged forward
violently and overturned into the ditch. A chauffeur behind
sprang from his seat and ran to release the people trapped
inside it, only to be shot down before he had even reached
it. From somewhere in the rear a horse bolted and raced wildly
down the road, missing our car by only a few inches* We
could see pale terrified women clinging to the benches of the
cart behind it. Then the aeroplanes were over us again and
we caught glimpses of arrogant faces looking down at us,
laughing at the confusion they had caused. I heard my chauf
feur, an old soldier who had served with my husband, mut
tering through clenched teeth . . . "Mother of God, if only
I had even a rifle! * When the planes veered sharply and be
gan attacking the head of the line of cars he arew to the
side of the road and opened the door. "Quick, Madame. Make
for the fields and lie down in the ruts. It s your best chance,"
On our left was a field of potatoes. The high-growing green
shoots would at least afford some sort of screen and there
was a thicket at the far end. If we could reach it we would
be fairly safe. At any rate nothing could be worse than sitting
still in an open car sprayed by bullets* So I sprang out calling
to the others to follow me and we leapt over the ditch and
started to run across the field. The occupants of the other
cars behind copied our example and soon the field was full
of women and children running and stumbling among the rows
of potatoes.

A girl in a silk dress caught one of her high-heeled shoes
in a rut and fell over sobbing with a sprained ankle. Two
sturdy peasant women grasped her under the arms, lifted her
up and half carried her between them* An old man with a

BLIGHTED HARVEST 39

child staggered suddenly, sagged slowly to the ground and
lay very still. A nun bent over him for a moment, then took
the child from his arms and ran on with it.

Then once again we heard the roar of the returning squadron
and a woman near me, winded and gasping, began to scream
like a hare when the hounds are just behind it. I called to
her to lie down but she took no notice so I caught hold of the
two children she was dragging by the hand and pulled them
down beside me. One of them, a little girl of three, laughed
delightedly at this new version of "Hide and Seek" and attached
herself to me for the rest of the day.

We lay flat on our faces among the potatoes for what
seemed an eternity, though actually I suppose it was only
ten minutes, while the airmen returned to the attack again
and again, sweeping the field with their machine-guns. Then
they seemed to tire of their sport and soared away into the
distance.

We got back into the car and started on our journey again.
We pushed forward for another ten miles and then the Nazi
airmen returned to the chase and again we had to take cover,
this time in a deep ditch at the side of the road. Fortunately
it was dry for we had to lie for half an hour among the twigs
and fallen leaves.

At the third raid we were more lucky for we were on the
outskirts of a fair-sized town and the anti-aircraft guns were
in action. We stopped outside one of the first houses and the
owner very kindly beckoned us in and insisted on our re
maining there until the "AH clear" sounded. Then we went
on again despite her offers of hospitality for we were anxious
to arrive at our destination before nightfall, and though it
was afternoon we had not covered even half the distance.

Our next shelter was a cowshed and the next after that a
granary which we shared with some peasant women. One of
them stood at the open door oblivious of her own danger,
shaking her fists fiercely in the air and screaming curses at the
pilots. An old woman with her told us that both her children
had been killed by a bomb the day before.

There were three machines in that raid and the airmen
contented themselves with wrecking the lovely old sixteenth-

40 PILSUDSKI

century village church, setting fire to the houses and killing
and injuring ten people. Then they flew off in the direction
of Warsaw and left us to continue our journey. At the end
of another half hour s driving, which was necessarily slow
because of the stream of cars on the road, we heard the roar
of aeroplanes once again and on rounding a bend we saw great
clouds of smoke and flame ascending. An incendiary bomb
had set fire to an entire village of wooden houses and the
raiders were still circling round machine-gunning the fleeing
inhabitants*

To our right was a dark belt of green and we saw running
figures making for its shelter across the fields, so we followed
their example and a few minutes later found ourselves in the
peace and silence of a pine forest. Here at least was sanctuary.
The tall tops of the fir trees screened us more effectively than
any man-made shelter, and we sank down on the ground too
exhausted to go any further or even to talk.

I had closed my eyes but the snapping of a twig made me
open them again, A little boy was standing observing us with
round-eyed wonden Presently he gave a shrill call and two
women came up and scrutinized us in their turn. Evidently
the result of their examination did not satisfy them, for sus
picion was written on their faces and although we could not
hear what they were saying we caught a murmur of German

"spies."

Then one of them disappeared to return with one of the
forest keepers who asked us for our papers. I explained that
we had left them in the car. Where was the car? On the road
behind us. At this there was shaking of heads and obvious
disbelief. My suggestion that one of us should go back and
fetch the papers not only met with no approval, but was
obviously considered a ruse to gain time , . . perhaps to bring
up reinforcements.

I was quite prepared to be put under arrest, when to my
relief an officer arrived upon the scene and immediately
recognized me and apologized* Then he explained that there
had been so many spies in the neighbourhood that the small
landowners and peasants had organized themselves into
bands in order to round them up. They had actually caught

BLIGHTED HARVEST 41

a number, several of whom had been dropped by parachute
from German planes, while others had been found in the
very act of signalling the Nazi airmen. Consequently all travel
lers who could not produce proof of their identity were be
ing detained and handed over to the local police. He advised
us on no account to leave our papers behind us again as the
forest was full of these armed bands of peasants and we would
in all probability be stopped several times before we arrived
at our destination.

By that time dusk had fallen and we decided to continue
on our way for the road now lay through deep forests which
the raiders could not penetrate. The tranquil silence of those
long shadowy avenues of trees with only an occasional slum
bering village to mark the presence of humanity was indescriba
bly restful after the turmoil of that day.

It was 2 A.M. when we arrived at my niece s house, tired and
dishevelled and very glad to go to bed.

CHAPTER IV

THE FIRST glimmer of dawn was beginning to lighten the
sky when I went up to bed* I slept in a room that was full
of the fresh fragrance of tobacco flowers and verbena from
the garden below and my lullaby was the gentle murmur of the
river and the soft rustling of branches in the wind* In that
quiet house I could almost imagine that the last few days had
been only a terrible dream. Yet war had descended even on
that peaceful countryside. My niece had warned me that I
would be awakened by the German bombers flying over the
house on their way to attack the town thirty miles north*
There were three raids every day, timed with clockwork
regularity, at seven in the morning, midday, and five in the
afternoon. Up to the present no bombs had been dropped on
the village, but its immunity seemed to have been more a
question of luck than anything else, for the sleepy little hamlet
on the opposite bank of the river had been reduced to ashes
only two days before by a squadron returning to its base*
But I was too tired to be disturbed even by the praspect of a
raid, and only pulled the blankets over my head when I heard
the roar of engines.

My niece s house, which was one of those enormous patri
archal homes of the old Polish country families, was full of
women, all of whom were engaged in some form of war work,
either in the Red Cross or on the land for nearly every able-
bodied man in the district had been called up. So there was
consternation in this feminine community when some village
women returning late from the fields caught a spy in the act of
laying dynamite on the railway bridge which spanned the river
and which was of considerable importance since the line was
used for the transport of troops and ammunition to the Western
Front The man, who was dressed in the habit of a monk,
was in possession of a revolver, but the strong peasant girls

4*

BLIGHTED HARVEST 43

threw themselves on him before he had time to use it, and
after disarming him bound him with a length of rope and led
him into the village to be delivered over to the old local police
man. When he was taken before the authorities in the neigh
bouring town he was found to be a Nazi who had worked in a
factory there for some years. Sewn into the folds of his habit
was a chart of the district on which all the important points
of communication had been marked.

In the meantime a deputation from the village came up to
my niece s house to report the attempt on the bridge and ask
for advice. It was obviously no longer safe to leave it un
guarded and as it was just at the foot of our garden we under
took to patrol it until the military authorities could be notified.
So with the aid of two boys, we collected every available
gun in the village and formed ourselves into a sentry party.
Then we divided our numbers so that two of us were always
on duty night and day.

At about six o clock on the second evening of our vigil
I handed over my rifle to the young cousin who came to relieve
me and joined my niece in the garden. It was one of those
golden, mellow days of September and the countryside was
wrapped in the calm of the Sabbath. Groups of women in their
best dresses stood gossiping at the cottage doors, a few old men
were fishing on the river bank, and from the meadow adjoining
our garden came the laughter of village cfftldren rounding up
the cows before driving them home.

I was half reading, half dozing when suddenly I heard what
sounded like a tremendous peal of thunder echoing from
the other side of the valley. Yet there was not a cloud in the
sky nor any sign of a storm. I looked over questioningly at my
niece. She too had turned in the direction of the sound and her
face was pale and set as she answered . . . "The Germans
are bombing the next village." As she spoke there was another
explosion and after that several more.

All that day the squadrons had not once flown over us. We
had waited in suspense divided between the conviction that we
should hear them sooner or later and the faint hope that they
might have changed their route. Evidently they had, but our
hearts sank as we listened to the crash of the bombs, thinking

44 PILSUDSKI

of the pretty village only three miles away and the fate that
had befallen it.

The last of the explosions had been succeeded by a fairly
long period of silence when all at once we heard the drone of
engines right overhead and nine machines came sweeping down
upon us. As usual they were flying very low. We had barely
time to spring out of our chairs and throw ourselves flat on the
ground when the first bomb fell sending up clouds of dust and
just missing one wing of the house. At the other side of the
lawn was a thick clump of bushes, a poor enough shelter but
better than nothing, and we ran for it. We reached it but
with not a fraction of a minute to spare before the planes
were over us again. We heard the spatter of machine-gun
bullets and the snapping of branches only a few feet away
from us. Seven or eight times they skimmed past us shooting
into the trees, missing us by what seemed a miracle. Then the
airmen left us to circle low over the meadow. We could only
look on helpless and sick with horror while they trained their
machine-guns on the children there who were too paralysed
with fright even to throw themselves down. Several of them
were killed before the bombers swept onwards to carry death
and destruction to the village. After they had set fire to the
fifteenth-century wooden church and the little houses cluster
ing round it, and buried the old miller and his wife beneath the
wreckage of theii*water mill, they departed on their way
leaving behind them silence broken only by the weeping of
women.

I was preparing to go to bed that night when my niece came
to my room and begged me to leave her house since it could
no longer be considered even tolerably safe* The German pilots
were never satisfied with a single raid, she reminded me* Even
the humblest village, unless it had been completely destroyed,
usually received its second baptism of fire* In all probability
they would return to-morrow.

If I had been the only one concerned I might have answered
that I had been used to taking risks all my life, and that it
was rather late in the day to change my way of living, but
there remained the question of Anna whose child might be
born at any time and who ought to have more skilled attention

BLIGHTED HARVEST 45

than the ministrations of the old peasant woman who had
assisted at the births of the entire villages for the past fifty
years. So we decided to go on to Wilno and, since night was
the safest time to travel, to start immediately. After an un
eventful drive we arrived just in time to see the sun rise over
the towers and steeples of the beautiful old University city.

At Wilno the war seemed so remote that it would have
been almost possible to forget it. The colleges were being
aired and repainted in preparation for the autumn term. Every
one we met talked of the usual topics of local interest, the
new appointments at the University, the crops, the prospect
of increased taxation. We heard that the German airmen had
flown over the city in the first days of the war and had dropped
one or two bombs but only on the aerodrome, and since then
all our machines had been removed. There had been no repe
tition of the raids and by the time we arrived in the city life
had reverted to its normal leisurely tempo. Our only echo
from the war zone reached us spasmodically in news brought
by men, passing through on their way from one part of the
Front to another.

One afternoon I went to visit a friend, the wife of a colonel
in an infantry regiment, and found her in great distress. She
had had no news of her husband since the outbreak of war, until
that morning when a captain in his regiment had returned to
Wilno. He had told her that the battalion had been practically
annihilated in an engagement with the enemy tanks and that he
feared the Colonel and most of the other officers had been killed.

While I was trying to comfort her we heard a car draw up
outside the house and instinctively glanced out of the window.
With an exclamation . . , "It s my husband s chauffeur . . ."
My friend ran to the front door. I followed her. Outside
stood the battered wreck of what had once been a big limousine*
Not a vestige of paint remained upon it and only the bare
skeleton of a body. The mudguards had been torn right off,
there were great dents in the sides and strips of jagged wood
hung crazily from apertures that had evidently been windows.
Never had I seen or even imagined a car in such a sorry state.
Yet the engine was still chugging valiantly. A stolid young
soldier got out and saluted us. There were rents in his

46 PILSUDSKI

overcoat and his face was pale and streaked with grime but
he handed over a large parcel as casually as though he had
just returned from an errand in the town.

* I came to fetch some clean linen for the Colonel, Ma
dame" . . , he said . . . "This is dirty, so I brought it home
to be washed,"

After he had had a meal he told us his srory. The Colonel
had not been killed but had joined another battalion. Before
going up the line with it he had told his chauffeur that he
would be unable to take the car, and advised him to abandon
it* This the man, who had been his personal chauffeur before
the war, was most unwilling to do and had begged to be
allowed to drive the car home. The Colonel had warned him
that it would be practically impossible since he would have
to cut through the enemy lines, but finally he had consented
to his making the attempt. Incredible as it seemed he had
actually got through, forced his way between the German lines
at top speed, under heavy fire from the tanks. The car was
literally riddled with bullets but by some miracle he had es
caped without a wound. He seemed quite surprised when we
praised him for his courage . . . "But you would not have had
me leave the car, Madame?" he said . . . "I had to bring it
home safely."

It appeared to give him immense satisfaction when that
poor ghost of a car was restored to its own garage, and after
collecting another parcel of clothes for the Colonel he went
to join a train leaving for the Front*

Our life in Wilno during that first three days had the calm
of an oasis after our experiences in Warsaw and at my niece s
house. Although the University was of course closed for the
vacation the Principal had returned and placed at our dis
posal one of the professor s houses within the precincts of the
old building. To me Wilno will always be especially dear, not
only for the charm and beauty of the mediaeval city but be
cause of its associations with my husband* He loved every
stone of it* ...

"One of the most lovely things in my life had been
Wilno, my native city" . . . he wrote. . . . "How often

BLIGHTED HARVEST 47

when I was in prison I thought of Wilno and longed for
Wilno, that dear city, full of so many memories. All that
is beautiful in my life has been touched by Wilno: there
I heard the first words of love, the first words of wisdom;
all my childhood and my boyhood were rounded by these
hills."

When he restored the old Polish University which had been
suppressed by the Russians he realized the dream of his life
time. His entire income as Marshal was devoted to its endow
ment; he used to deny himself many small luxuries to augment
it. And I too grew to see Wilno through his eyes,

Generations of scholars had left the imprint of their own
tranquillity of mind on our simply furnished little rooms, and
as we had many friends in the city the time passed quickly.
But those were the last days of peace that Wilno was to
know,

At ten o clock on the Saturday morning we heard the wail
of the sirens and a few seconds later the Nazi airmen came
swooping over the city. In the space of less than five minutes
they wrecked the railway station, and set fire to several houses.
Then like a flight of birds they were gone. But no sooner had
the startled populace left their shelters and begun to attend
to the injured and clear away the wreckage than they were
back again, and this time, emboldened by our obvious lack
of defences, they had their will of the city, flying low and
sweeping the streets with their machine-guns. They shot the
mourners in a funeral procession and the women waiting in a
queue outside a baker s shop. They shot old men sitting in
the garden of an almshouse and a group of boys playing
football in a field by the river. They had time to shoot a great
many people in the five hours during which they kept returning
again and again to Wilno with intervals of only a few minutes
between each raid. It was after three o clock in the afternoon
when at length we heard the "All clear." . . .

I went out almost immediately for I was due to go on
duty at the Red Cross and I knew that I should have to walk
there. Getting a taxi would be out of the question. Where-
ever I went I saw the terrible harvest of the raid, for although

every ambulance in the city was out in the streets there had
not been time to take all the dead and injured to hospital.

Two Red Cross men were carrying a stretcher out of a
garden* On it lay a little girl, lovely in death as one of Delia
Robbia s angels. She had been killed by a machine-gun bullet
but her face was smiling and untroubled and in her arms she
still clasped a doll A soldier helped to lift her into the ambu
lance. As it drove away he stooped to pick up something in
the gutter. He held it out in the palm of his rough hand, and
I saw that his eyes were full of tears. It was a doit s shoe*

"I ve got children of my own/* he said huskily, "but I m
glad Fm going back to the Front to-day, I ve been in the Army
since I was a boy and Fve seen plenty of war. But this is dif
ferent. I reckon you would never get accustomed to it."

As I walked on I thought of his words. Surely it would
only be wiping out centuries of evolution that men and women
could ever accustom themselves to this wholesale murder of
the weak and helpless since it represented the triumph of every
evil instinct which Humanity has taught itself to conquer!

A little farther on I came upon a knot of peasant women
gathered round a proclamation which had been pasted on a
door, I stopped to read it. It was a crudely-worded boast
that as the Virgin of Czestochowa had already favoured
Hitler, so also the Virgin of Wilno would bless his cause and
that the German troops would be in Wilno in time for Mass at
noon on the following day.

I explained to the women that it was Nazi propaganda, for
in their ignorance they were greatly distressed Tne Virgin of
Wilno is known and venerated throughout Poland, and this
cynical exploiting of the faith of a simple and devout people
was typical of the Nazi mentality.

The next day, the fateful Sunday of September the seven
teenth, passed in an atmosphere of almost unbearable suspense.
We were prepared for more air raids, but they did not come.
And from morning until evening we waited in vain for any
news from outside the city* All communications had been cut
without our knowing it. Only at night we heard the truth,
and then we could not bring ourselves to realize it. The Rus
sians had crossed the frontier*

BLIGHTED HARVEST 49

For the first twenty-four hours the wildest rumours and
conjectures flew about for many believed with tragic optimism
that a secret military treaty had been signed with Russia and
that Stalin s troops had entered Poland as our allies and were
on their way to the Western Front. It was even said that
the tanks preceding them were supplies sent by Great Britain
and France who were delivering them to us over the Russian
frontier. This unfortunate theory originated at the very fron
tier and was responsible for the fact that the Soviet Army
met with no resistance of any sort. All telephone lines to the
Polish headquarters having been already cut by spies, the
officers responsible for guarding the frontier in the ordinary
way, none of whom were of very high rank, were afraid to
take the initiative in view of the mysterious rumours of Rus
sian aid which had been carefully circulated among them.
Confused and bewildered by the sudden turn of events they
ordered their own troops not to fire on the Soviets with the
result that the invaders found all barriers removed and no
one to challenge them except a few peasants who hailed them
as their defenders.

It was only on the Monday that officials in Wilno took com
mand of the situation, rallied the dazed frontier regiments and
proclaimed the Soviets as enemies, but by then valuable time
had been lost. Polish troops rushed to this new Front, wearied
as they were with repelling the German advance, fought with
desperate courage, but they were hopelessly outmatched both
in numbers and in mechanism, and the Russians continued their
advances, sweeping all before them.

With the Soviets alone we could have reckoned. We had
beaten them before and would have done so again. Against
Germany alone we could, I believe, have held our own until
our Allies were able to give us tangible aid. But in the face of
that ruthless combination we were powerless. Our defeat was
inevitable.

The guns of Stalin s advancing Army were thundering in
the distance on that September evening two days later when we

50 PILSUDSKI

left Poland and crossed the frontier into Lithuania. I had in
sisted on remaining in Wilno until the last moment, and even
when the car stood waiting for us at the door I was tempted
to send it away. But the Governor of the city had urged me
to go, for, as he said, the wife and daughters of Joseph Pilsudski
could hope for no mercy at the hands of the Soviets. Two of
my husband s brothers had already been arrested. I had spent
many months in a Russian prison and I was not going to let my
daughters risk the same experience. So we obtained visas and
packed just such few necessities as we would require on the
journey, for the Governor had warned us to travel with the
minimum amount of luggage* But when I wanted Anna to
come with us she refused.

"I cannot go. I must stay in Wilno. Perhaps I shall be able
to leave later." "But the Russians will be in the city in a few
hours" ... I said. "I know," she answered quietly . * . "but
at least there are doctors and hospitals here, and if I come with
you where will my child be born?"

I thought that the question must surely be as old as the hu
man race itself, for she was the eternal mother, caring nothing
for her own danger but only for the giving of life. Men might
make wars and sweep away frontiers, I thought; nations might
rise and fall; the world might be shaken to its foundations.
Yet as long as humanity survived women would continue to
ask the same question and to safeguard the future of those
yet unborn, even in the midst of death and destruction. But
I realized, too, that she was wise in her decision. She would be
safer in Wilno than as a refugee in flight across Europe, for
we had no definite plans and did not even know to what coun
try we were going. So we left her there in the city and my sister
remained with her.

The evening shadows were beginning to close in when we
crossed the frontier into the friendly Lithuanian territory*
As I looked back for the last time on the rolling plains and dark
forests of Poland I thought that the past twenty years must
surely have been only a dream of freedom. The land that we
had so hardly regained was lost to us once more, the long
and bitter fight had been in vain. All that we had built up
in those slow, patient years of toil and hope and planning

BLIGHTED HARVEST 5!

had been destroyed. We had thrown off our fetters for a brief
while but only to be bound anew.

The roads into Lithuania were black with retreating troops.
We passed whole regiments of infantry trudging along through
the dust, almost stumbling with fatigue, cavalry on weary,
sweating horses, hundreds of wounded evacuated from the
hospitals in ambulances and lorries, even on farm wagons. And
then came a crowd of refugees, wives and children of Wilno
business men, peasants in market carts, factory workers on
foot. The first inn across the frontier was so full that we could
hardly get inside it. Every room had been taken, people were
sleeping in bathrooms, in storerooms and pantries, even on
the stairs. Whole families were camping out in the court
yard with their possessions piled round them. They were
dazed and bewildered by the unexpected turn of events and
by the complete absence of news (for the brave Wilno and
Baranowicze radio had at last been silenced) ; many of them
did not know whether they were fleeing from the Germans
or the Russians.

We were reconciling ourselves to the prospect of spending
the night in the car when the landlady of the inn, who was a
Polish woman, very kindly gave up her own room to us. It
was not much bigger than a cupboard, but she made up two
small beds and on these the three of us slept.

While we were waiting for it to be got ready some of the
people in the courtyard who had heard my name drew near
to talk to me, simple working men who wept openly when
they spoke of my husband. . . . "Ah, Madame, if our Mar
shal had been alive this would never have happened. All
would have been well!" Their childlike confidence in him
was profoundly touching. He had so often called them "my
children."

I was turning away to hide my own tears when an old
man came and kissed my hand ... "I was one of the first to
serve under the Marshal" ... he said proudly ... "I was
with him when he formed his first troop and I followed him
all through the Russian campaign . . . Poland was victorious
then, Madame, and the day will come when she will be victori
ous again. Even though I may not live to see it these will" . . *

52 PILSUDSKI

and he laid his hand on the shoulders of the child who stood
beside him.

His faith comforted me. I remembered that my husband
had so often said . . . "To be vanquished and yet not surren
der, that is victory. . . ."

The next morning we continued our journey through Lith
uania where we found a state of feverish unrest. The Govern
ment, uncertain of Russia s intentions, had ordered immediate
mobilization and the city was full of troops, both Lithuanian
and those of our own retreating army who were endeavouring
to reorganize their ranks. Streams of refugees pouring over
the Polish frontier besieged the foreign legations and consulates
in Kovno endeavouring to get news of their relatives. Many
of them had spent the night in the parks and squares, even
slept under archways and on doorsteps. Red Cross workers
went round among them distributing soup and bread. Every
hour the crowds and confusion seemed to increase and as we
could achieve nothing by remaining there we decided to go on
to Riga.

But in Riga, too, there was no hope of any permanent
sanctuary for the Estonian Government had been thrown into
apprehension by Stalin s demands, and the decision between
peace and war hung in the balance. The Polish Minister there
advised us to go straight to Stockholm as soon as possible and
to travel by air. There was, he explained, an air service to
Sweden which had not yet been cancelled but it was extremely
difficult to get places* He would apply for them immediately
for us.

Half an hour later we received the welcome news that there
had been a last moment cancellation and three seats were avail
able in an aeroplane which was leaving for Stockholm in less
than an hour!

We had so little luggage with us that packing was only
the work of a few minutes and we arrived at the aerodrome
with plenty of time to spare. But when I went into the office
to book our seats and register I discovered to my dismay that

BLIGHTED HARVEST 53

the machine belonged to a Swedish-Soviet line and that the
pilot was not Swedish as we had been given to understand, but
a stalwart young Russian. If he guessed our identity he would
most probably consider it worth while to take the aeroplane
out of its course and land us on Soviet territory! However, it
was too late to draw back and I consoled myself with the re
flection that as we were certainly not safe in Estonia, which
was faced with war or vassalage to Stalin, we were justified
in taking the risk. But I knew no peace of mind until we had
actually landed at the aerodrome in Stockholm.

The British Minister in Stockholm showed us the greatest
kindness from the moment of our arrival and made arrange
ments for us to travel to England in a special aeroplane. Only
the previous day a machine flying on the regular air service
had been chased and fired at by German airmen and a passen
ger had been killed. Even as it was our journey was not with
out adventure for after we landed our pilot told me that at one
stage he had been pursued by a Nazi plane and had only man
aged to evade it by climbing into the clouds.

So at length on a calm and lovely morning I looked out
of the cabin window and saw far below me the gentle slopes
of the English Downs. They were rather like the hills of that
other land which I had left, I thought, that land which held
the memory of everything that was most dear in my life. For
the first time since leaving Warsaw I had leisure to think of
the future, to realize that I was an exile, without a home or
country and that the road ahead was dark and insecure. But
then I remembered that I had never set much value on se
curity, perhaps because I had never known it in those years
when my husband and I journeyed from place to place, wan
derers and fugitives, uncertain even of what the next day might
hold for us.

And so I stepped out on to the soil of that England of which
he had so often spoken, the country which had given him
shelter, and which had always represented to him freedom, and
courage came back to me.

PART TWO

LOOKING BACK

CHAPTER V

"WHEN ONE is born a Pole one must of necessity be born a
patriot." My grandmother said that so often that the words
imprinted themselves on my childish memory long before I
understood their meaning. Not that I gave them any serious
consideration in those days for I was still at that happy age
which is concerned only with concrete facts. They slipped
somewhere into the background of my consciousness to join an
array of other incomprehensible things which had been vaguely
wondered at and stored away. There was, for instance, the
problem of why I had to hide my Polish lesson books and only
bring them out in secret instead of going to school like other
children. And why I might not speak to the little girl who lived
in the house at the opposite side of the square even though I
met her every Sunday walking between her parents in the
Public Gardens. She was a pretty little girl with flaxen hair like
my doll and we always smiled at one another, but when I
told my aunt that I should like to play with her she said, "No"
. . . very sharply and hurried me along.

"But why not?" I persisted, tugging at her hand.

"Because she is Russian and you are Polish. Now do not ask
any more questions."

She was usually so gentle and indulgent that I was surprised
into silence. But after a while I began to establish a link between
these incomprehensible things.

I was born in that part of Poland which was under Russian
rule, in Suvalki, a quiet little provincial town, undistinguished
by history, consisting principally of one long street, pitted by
deep ruts which were the despair of the Mayor because money
for repairing them was always promised and was never forth
coming, and bordered by beech trees screening the neat rows
of low-built white houses.

57

58 PILSUDSKI

The town was one of the Russian Government centres and
pride of place was given to the barracks occupied by two
Russian Cavalry regiments and to the group of villas clustering
round it which housed the officers wives and families, and
various Government officials. Dominating the whole was the
Russian Church surmounted by its large cross of crystal, which
appealed to my childish eyes as an object of great beauty as
it sparkled in the sunlight.

Except for strictly official matters there was no contact
between the Russian and the Polish communities. The Russians
had their own Casino, held their own dances and concerts,
and amused themselves in their own fashion, and we did the
same. Even on spiritual ground there was no meeting, for while
we were Catholics they were of the Greek Orthodox faith
and therefore their religious festivals were held at different
times from ours. The few yards which separated us might have
stretched over a bottomless chasm, which indeed they did, A
chasm wherein was buried the accumulated grief and bitterness
of centuries of oppression,

But these distinctions did not shadow the happiness of my
childhood for I accepted them as a mysterious but evidently
essential part of my world.

My parents are enshrined in memory as dim figures for they
died within a few months of one another when I was ten years
old. My father was a dreamer, unpractical and artistic. He
was passionately fond of music and his image evokes long
slender fingers wandering over the yellow keys of the old
piano in the salon* My mother I remember most vividly in a
grey silk dress seated before the big mirror in her bedroom,
trying on a new hat which was covered with flowers, while I
stood behind her lost in admiration. She was a beautiful woman,
but her health and vitality were sapped fay the incessant rou
tine of child-bearing. When she died, still under thirty, she
had brought into the world twelve children of whom only
five survived, myself, three sisters and a brother. I was the
second from the eldest, was christened Alexandra and always
called Ola. J

We lived, the whole family of us, after the good old Polish
patriarchal fashion, at my grandmother s house which was

LOOKING BACK 59

dominated by her forceful personality and iron will. She was
a despot whose rule had been undisputed since the death of her
husband many years before. None of us dreamt of opposing
her, not even my father who used to take refuge in silence
when worsted in an argument with her which was usually
the case. To my mother she was kind and indulgent because
she was scarcely ever well, was easily reduced to tears, and it
was not good for her to be upset. Aunt Maria, the unmarried
daughter, who completed the generation of our elders, had
long before been crushed into colourless submission. She was
a gentle spinster, domesticated and affectionate, with a soft
voice, kind mild eyes like a Madonna, and great braids of
hair which she wore coiled round her head. It was typical
of her that Grandmother had chosen her style of coiffure for
her when she was sixteen and that even at sixty she had not
changed it. She was one of those women born for motherhood
and denied it by circumstance. As it was she lavished all her
maternal instinct on us children, nursed us through our ill
nesses, mended our clothes, taught us our first prayers and
mitigated the severity of our punishments. I believe that in
all her life the only occasions on which she ever disobeyed
her mother were when she used to steal secretly upstairs with
a well-filled plate to some culprit sent supperless to bed,
and I realize now what a spiritual conflict that must have
represented for she was conscientious and truthful to the
last degree. I was far more attached to her than to either of
my parents perhaps because she nursed me devotedly night
and day through a very serious illness when I was three years
old. After the doctors who were attending me had given
up all hope and predicted that I could not even live through
the night, she remembered an old peasant remedy and de
cided to try it as a last resort. So she wrapped my entire body,
heated with 104 degrees of fever, in ice-cold compresses.
Drastic as it was it apparently cured me, for by the next
morning my temperature had dropped, and I was sleeping
naturally-

Actually that illness is my earliest recollection, chiefly,
I think, because it was associated with the wearing of my
hated blue dresses. While I lay between life and death my

60 PILSUDSKI

parents prayed to the famous Virgin of Czestochowa and
dedicated me to her so that for three years after my recovery
I was never dressed in anything but that one shade of blue. It
made me conspicuous among other children who teased me so
mercilessly that I shed tears of anger and humiliation in secret,
and grew to loathe the colour to such an extent that when
once I was released from my obligation I would never wear it
again. I still think it was a severe strain to put upon the faith of
a child, and one calculated to set up a violent anti-religious
reaction. Yet in those days I prayed with a fervour and a cer
tainty of belief that I often longed to recapture in later years
of storm and conflict*

Although Suvalki was in itself an ordinary little provincial
town the surrounding country had a wild and majestic beauty.
Gently-swelling hills sparsely dotted with farms and cottages
sloped down to dense forests of beeches* oaks and pines stretch
ing for miles and framing great lakes* deep and silent and so
lonely that the footprints of an occasional fisherman were the
only signs of human life.

The largest of these lakes was Wigry where we used to
go for excursions on Sunday afternoons, packed tightly into
a big hired wagonette, drawn by two horses and driven by a
garrulous old coachman. When we reached the lake a primitive
ferry took us across to the opposite shore where there was a
bird sanctuary on the edge or the forest. Every year at the
migrating season thousands of birds would assemble there to
break their flight from the cold of the plains to the sunny
lands of the South, and the whole forest echoed to their song.
Some of them were so tame that they would approach quite
close for they had no fear either of us or the monks of the
Camaldoleze Monastery on the shores of the lake, which was
famed for the music of its bells. The sound of the chimes
ringing across the water at the hour of Vesoers is one of the
loveliest memories of my childhood. But curing the Great
War the Russian troops descended on Wigry, took possession
of the Monastery and disbanded the monks. They left behind
them silence, for the bells were sent to Moscow to be melted
down, and the noise of the Russian guns scared away the
birds so that they would never come back in spite of the

LOOKING BACK 6l

efforts made to re-establish the sanctuary* Warned by some
strange instinct which must have persisted through generations
of their short lives they deserted the forest.

After sunset when the shadows lengthened and the first
pale stars came out over the tops of the fir trees the shores of
Lake Wigry grew eerie and desolate with their long alleys of
darkening forest and their gaunt roots of trees torn up and
twisted into fantastic shapes by the storms of many years. Lo
cal superstitions had given the place an evil repute and woven
strange legends around it. Rosalia, our housemaid, used to re
gale us with them on winter evenings. . . . Her favourite was
the story of the Camaldoleze monk who made a bargain with
the Devil.

Long ago, said Rosalia, there were fish in Lake Wigry
which surpassed in delicacy and flavour any other in Poland,
and which were much appreciated by the good monks on fast
days. Imagine then their disappointment when suddenly and
for no apparent reason the supply failed. Hour after hour,
day after day, the brethren fished the waters patiently to be
rewarded with not one single bite. At length they abandoned
the attempt, all but one young brother more persevering than
the rest. One evening he took his line to the shore and became
so absorbed in his efforts that he did not realize that the sun
had set and the moon had risen over the lake. The sound of
a cough behind him made him turn . . . and there stood the
Devil.

The monk knew the correct procedure on being confronted
with the Devil, explained Rosalia, and immediately recited
the prescribed prayers. The Evil One politely waited for him
to finish but when he had done so neither disappeared in a
circle of flames nor showed any sign of wishing to harm him.
Instead he remarked conversationally that he had heard of
the shortage of fish and regretted that the brethren had been
inconvenienced by it. He knew a means, he added, by which
he could replenish the Lake immediately. The Camaldoleze,
delighted, besought him to do so. The Devil consented but
only at a price. The monk must give him his soul in exchange.

The poor Camaldoleze was sorely tempted. He pictured the
joy of the community when their favourite dish was restored to

62 PILSUDSKI

them. But on the other hand the bargain was a terrible one.
At length he decided on a compromise. He told the Devil that
he would agree to his terms but on one condition only. The
fish must be in his possession before midnight. They looked
at the Monastery clock which was illuminated by the moon. It
was just ten o clock. The Devil hesitated- Two hours was a
short timebut the soul of the holy Camaldoleze was a prize
worth having. He accepted the condition and flew off.

The monk, left alone, bitterly repented his bargain. Too
late he realized the terrible consequences of what he had done
and began to pray. So full of remorse was he that he scarcely
noticed how time was passing until in despair he glanced up at
the Monastery clock. The hands pointed to three minutes
before midnight. Suddenly inspiration came to him and he
ran up the steep stairs to the clock tower. As he reached the
top he saw by the light of the moon the Devil already flying
over the farther shore of the Lake with the fish under his arm.
The monk did not wait another second but moved the hands of
the clock to midnight. Immediately the twelve strokes rang
out over the water. The Devil, half-way across the Lake hear<C
gave a start, and in baffled rage and disappointment dropped
the fish into the Lake. Then gnashing his teeth he turned and
flew away never to return. But ever after the Monastery table
was well supplied with fish.

That was the story that Rosalia used to tell us on winter
evenings in the kitchen while we sat in a circle on our little
wooden stools round the glowing stove and watched her
plucking the down that had been stored all summer for filling
pillows and eiderdowns, I can see her now in her blue check
apron and peasant blouse, her wide lap full of the snowy goose
feathers, her strong brown fingers never stopping in their task
of stripping the down from the quills as she talked, I used
to think that she must look like Mother Holle-which was
another of her fairy stories* She had an endless repertoire
which we never tired of hearing, and a sense of the dramatic
which kept us spell-bound. We loved those long evenings in
the warm kitchen with its savoury odours of new-baked
bread, roasting apples, spices and smoking hams, and, as an
added treat, there would be plates of faworki, the crisp little

LOOKING BACK 63

cakes of sweet batter fried in lard which Anusia the cook would
bring us still hot from the stove. We would sit there, warm
and drowsy and replete until Rosalia s voice faded into a
restful drone and our heads would begin to droop, and one by
one we would be taken off to bed.

Anusia was a wonderful cook. Her stuffed cabbages and
spiced meat pies were held to be unequalled in Suvalki, and
the cool larder opening off the kitchen was always full of
her handiwork. Strings of home-made sausages and enormous
hams smoked to perfection over a charcoal burner hung from
the ceiling, pots of jam and apple cheeses were arranged in
neat rows in the cupboards, sloe wine and peach and cherry
brandy were stored in stone jars on the floor. She was a
peasant from the hills and not even Aunt Maria s lectures
could induce her to discard some of the customs of her native
village. She could never, for instance, be induced to sleep in
her bed which stood in the warmest corner of the kitchen be
hind the stove.

This bed was an object of our admiration for it was piled
almost to the ceiling with embroidered cushions of brilliant
colours and designs made and stuffed by Anusia s fingers, and
the sheets were hand-woven and adorned with the finest drawn
threadwork. But its purpose was purely ornamental for Anusia
had never been known to lie upon it. Instead she slept on
the hard kitchen settle with one plain pillow beneath her head
and a couple of old blankets as covering. The bed was be
ing preserved with all its splendours intact against the two
great occasions in a peasant s life, the marriage night and the
lying-in-state. As Anusia was well past fifty I feared that it
would be occupied only once, but this possibility never seemed
to depress her. She was constantly making new cushions to
embellish it.

Another of her customs which sorely tried Aunt Maria was
that she would only wash her face once a week, before going
to Vespers on Sunday afternoon. No matter how grimy it
might become during the middle of the week she would never
do more than wipe it with a cotton handkerchief, for she had
the peasant s deep-rooted belief that washing takes the health
out of the skin.

64 PILSUDSKI

But on Sundays immediately she had washed the dishes
after dinner she would retire to the scullery to emerge later
rosy and shining like an apple and redolent of soap and lav
ender. Then she would open the stout wooden chest by her
bed and take out the gala costume of her native district,
voluminous skirt nearly covered with gold braid and bands of
ribbon of every colour, black velvet bodice embroidered to
match, and a crown of flowers for her hair* Arrayed in its
glories she would depart to Vespers followed by our admiring
eyes.

In contrast to the homely comforts of the kitchen were
evenings in the salon with its stiff mahogany furniture and its
Biblical engravings. Perched primly upright on our hard chairs
we would read or prepare our lessons under the observant eyes
of Grandmother who sat opposite us in her big armchair, the oil
lamp on its special table beside her, her crocheting in her hands.
No matter how restless we might feel inwardly we were too
much in awe of her to fidget, and an hour or more would pass
without any sound to break the silence except the chiming
of the alabaster clock, and the hissing of the samovar over its
charcoal burner. Then Aunt Maria would make a welcome
appearance with biscuits and jam and pour out steaming glasses
of tea for us aU.

Grandmother would never take more than half a glass
at a time but she drank tea almost continuously, twenty or
thirty glasses in a day. When I try to picture her I always see
her small hands which were beautiful even in old age, manipu
lating the silver filigree samovar or else tending her flowers.
She took great delight in her garden and there was scarcely a
week in the year when it was not full of flowers. Even in the
depth of winter she had myrtles and dwarf maples, and sweet-
scented musk and heliotrope growing in pots in the window-
boxes. She had far more knowledge of them than the old
gardener who came for the rough work, for she seemed to
have a curious affinity with flowers. During the two months
of her last illness they drooped and withered in spite of the
conscientious care expended on them by Aunt Maria, and when
she died there was not one left to put on her coffin.

She was a woman of great strength of character, in many

LOOKING BACK 65

respects far ahead of her generation, broad-minded, intelligent,
very well-read. Since the death of her husband she had man
aged her big country estate without even the aid of a bailiff,
governing the peasants with a firm hand, arbitrating in their
disputes among themselves, giving them shrewd advice when
they came to her with their problems and medicine when they
were ill.

Her patriotism was the mainspring of her life. All the fierce
ardour of her nature was dedicated to the fight for liberty.
Her home, her children, her material interests counted as noth
ing beside it. So great was the force of her personality that
although she was a woman and a widow and lived in an age
when women were of little or no account politically, she was
one of the acknowledged leaders in the undercurrent of in
trigue, and had played an active part in the Insurrection of
1863, holding secret meetings in her house and hiding stores
of arms and ammunition regardless of the risk she ran. She
was utterly fearless, contemptuous even of danger and no sac
rifice would have been too heavy for her. She would have faced
exile to Siberia or even death with the exaltation of a martyr
for she came of a line of patriots who handed down the ideal
of liberty as a sacred trust, rekindling in each new generation
the flame of rebellion no matter how many times it might be
extinguished.

The failure of the Insurrection had been the bitterest dis
appointment of her life. Ever after she dressed in deepest
black, relieved only by a narrow white edging of lace at the
neck and wrists, and on her finger she wore a mourning ring,
a tablet of onyx in which was set a cross of pearls. I must
have been about seven years old when I asked her about it,
one evening when we were alone in the salon together. I was
holding a skein of wool for her to wind and I watched the
lamplight playing on the pearls as her hands moved in and
out.

"It is a ring worn in memory of those who died" ... she
said in answer to my question, and took it off and showed me
the date engraved inside. I spelt it out slowly. 1863.

"Oh, Grandmother, let me try it on" ... I begged her.
She shook her head. "You can only wear that ring if you are

66 PILSUDSKI

a patriot, Ola." Then I asked the question that had been at
the back of my mind for so long. "What is a patriot then? "
She paused a moment before answering and her deep blue eyes
shone as though with the light of some inner fire.

"One who puts the love of Poland before all else in the
world and who is willing to sacrifice everything, even his
life if it is needed, in fighting for her freedom.

"I will fight for Poland, Grandmother, I said, only half
understanding, but wanting very much to wear the ring. She
was silent for a moment and her eyes searched my face.

"I believe you will" ... she said at last . . . "Ola, my
child, promise me that you will!"

"I promise, Grandmother" ... I repeated solemnly, awed
by the intensity of feeling in her voice. She drew me to her
with one of her rare gestures of tenderness and kissed me and
put the ring on my finger, holding it firmly for it was much too
big for me. Then she restored it to her own hand and the spell
was broken.

"Now run away, Ola, and play with your sisters" . . * she
said in her ordinary brisk voice . . , "Do not speak of this to
any one, but do not forget."

I went off very proud at sharing a secret with Grandmother,
and I did not forget, for that evening is still the most vivid
memory of my childhood* The promise I had given meant
nothing to me then, yet without realizing it I, too, had been
consecrated to the cause for which thousands had died or gone
into exile*

CHAPTER VI

IHE POLAND of my youth was the most unhappy country in
Europe, a country once proud and free that had been humbled
into the dust. A country of shadows, haunted by memories of
a greatness that had fled like a dream in the night. A country
whose people had been slowly crushed into the semblance of
submission, who had learnt to endure sorrow and humiliation
in silence.

Just as the lives of men and women are usually made or
marred by their early environment, so Poland s tragedy began
with her setting in the map of Europe. For she was not only
the buffer between the civilization and culture of the West
and the barbarity of the East, but the battleground of all the
nations. In every generation there was an enemy to menace one
or other of her frontiers. The fierce Tartars swept down upon
her cities burning and pillaging and killing. The Cossack tribes
revolted against her and harried the Ukraine. The Turks
threatened her existence until her warrior king, John Sobieski,
routed them in a great battle on the plains of Vienna in 1683,
drove them out of Hungary and established the triumph of
the Cross over the Crescent. There were wars with the Mus
covites and wars with the Swedes which left scant breathing
space. But the most prolonged of all these wars was the con
flict with the Teutonic Knights, that centuries-old conflict
which only entered another phase when Hitler s troops
marched into Poland last year.

So little has the German mentality changed that there is
an almost complete parallel between that arrogant and cruel
Order which terrorized half Europe in the Middle Ages and the
Nazis of to-day. The ruthless ambition and greed for domina
tion which caused the Knights to drop all pretence of spiritual
calling in the pursuit of material conquests inspires the Nazi
program of annexation. The cynical hypocrisy which enforced
Christianity at the point of the sword and by barbarities

67

68 PILSUDSKI

which outmatched those of the heathen races on whom they
were practised finds its echo in Hitler s persecution of the
Jews and the Catholic Church. The methods used in quelling
the conquered nations are identical, despite the passage of more
than five hundred years, liven the "Fifth Column" of the Ges
tapo did not originate in modern Germany for it was invariably
the habit of the Knights to undermine the countries which
they proposed to attack by intrigue and propaganda from
within. And in the code of the Teutonic Order were many
points in common with that of the modern Reich, down to
the glorification of Teutonic blood and mass obedience to the
chosen leader.

Between Poland and this powerful Germanic Order there
began at the close of the fourteenth century the contest which
was to endure until to-day, which was to change many times in
character but never in motive* The struggle for access to the
Baltic.

The Order, which was founded by the Pope in 1191 for the
protection of pilgrims on their way to the Holy Land, and
which originally numbered forty Knights, each of whom had
to take an oath on entrance testifying to the purity of his Ger
man blood, was actually invited by the Poles to vSettle in their
territory to carry out missionary work among the heathen
Prussian tribes there* The Knights, who had already been ex
pelled from Hungary because of their intrigues, were glad to
avail themselves of the offer, but no sooner had they gained in
power and numbers than they proceeded to exterminate the
unfortunate Prussians with fire and sword, seize their territory
and then turn against Lithuania and Poland.

These two countries menaced by the common enemy formed
an alliance, and the beautiful young Polish Queen Jadwiga was
married to the Lithuanian Grand Duke Jagiello, a prince who
was not only the military genius of his time but who, under
the influence of the cultured Polish nobles, developed outstand
ing qualities of statesmanship.

The new alliance was formidable enough to hold the Knights
in check for some years, during which time they pursued a
campaign of terror among the smaller neighbouring states, but
in 1410, enriched by plunder and enormously strengthened

LOOKING BACK 69

in numbers, they issued a direct challenge to Poland and
Lithuania. The allied armies under the leadership of Jagiello,
and supported by small numbers of auxiliaries from Bohe
mia and Ruthenia, who rallied to their standard from fear of
their enemy, met the redoubtable Knights of the Teutonic Or
der at Griinwald near Tannenberg and inflicted a crushing
defeat on them. Unfortunately, the Poles, magnanimous in
victory, showed a clemency which was to prove disastrous to
them centuries later, for they did not expel the Order.

The respite was of short duration, for the Knights, smarting
under their reverse, launched guerilla campaigns against the
Poles, culminating during the reign of Casimir IV in a war
which dragged on for fourteen years. But the Order had de
teriorated both in military prowess and in leadership, and once
more the Poles were victorious, pressing home their advan
tage until their adversaries were forced to sue for peace. By
the resultant Treaty of Thorn Poland gained access to the
Baltic and possession of the territory west of the Vistula with
the city of Danzig, while the Knights were relegated to the
occupation of the territory east of the Vistula, known later as
Prussia. This they held as vassals of the Crown of Poland, and
in token thereof the Grand Master of the Order bound himself
to perform the requisite acts of homage. The repercussions
of that pact, which was signed in 1466, were to continue
through the centuries, for out of that fief dom, held by a law
less and brigand Order, was born the Kingdom of Prussia. The
last Grand Master of the Teutonic Knights, Albrecht von
Hohenzollern, Duke of Brandenburg, broke up the Order
when he adopted the Lutheran faith in 1 525, and with the con
sent of Sigismund I of Poland founded the hereditary Dukedom
of Prussia. He went to Cracow dutifully and in gratitude to
confirm his new title and to put his hands between the hands
of the Polish King and swear fealty to his liege lord. The citi
zens of the ancient capital who watched the Black Eagle low
ered in homage to the White did not know that they had seen
the turning of a new page in history, a page that would be
stained with the blood of future generations. For Albrecht s
successor was crowned King of Prussia. The foundations of
the German Empire had been laid.

70 PILSUDSKI

But as the star of Germany rose in the ascendancy so that
of Poland began to wane. The weakness of her political con
struction, which was neither that of an hereditary monarchy
nor of a republic, but lent itself to the abuses of both; the sys
tem of electing her kings from candidates who were usually
foreigners, rendered her vulnerable to the alien influences
which brought about her ruin. In 1764 the last of her kings
ascended the Throne, that weak, ineffectual but none the less
tragic figure, Stanislas Augustus, whose evil genius was Cather
ine of Russia. Long before it had been foretold that a woman
would bring sorrow and desolation to Poland, and the prophecy
was fulfilled, for the Empress, who was as cold-hearted and
unscrupulous as she was beautiful, completely subjugated the
handsome, accomplished young Polish noble, who first visited
her court in the train of the British Ambassador and after her
intrigues had secured his election to the Throne used him
ruthlessly as a pawn in the intricate game of European politics.
Expert as she was in psychology, she was able to keep him
enslaved both by his passion for her and by the attractions of
her Court, whose extravagances and barbaric splendour ap
pealed to his sensuous, pleasure-loving temperament. And so
after years in which the tentacles of Russian influence stretched
ever more tightly over Poland, her martyrdom was sealed with
the First Treaty of Partition, a scheme evolved bv the fertile
brains of the Empress Catherine and Frederick tne Great of
Prussia, and entered into, albeit with some reluctance, by Maria
Theresa of Austria, When they had made an end of arguing
and explaining and wrangling like dogs over a bone, Prussia
took au West Prussia, except the cities of Thorn and Danzig
Russia three provinces, and Austria parts of Galicia, Podola
and Little Poland. They reached agreement among themselves
in 1772, but they gave no notice of their intentions until Sep
tember, when with a technique strangely resembling that of
Hitler and Stalin they announced that they proposed to en
force on Poland "claims as ancient as they were legitimate,"
As a further excuse, they added that since a state or anarchy
existed in Poland threatening an entire dissolution of that king
dom they were constrained to take these steps to preserve the
peace of their own borders.

LOOKING BACK 71

The Poles, confronted with this manifesto, were stunned.
The unhappy Stanislas, awaking too late to realities, protested
to the imperious Catherine and got the callous reply that he
ought to consider the Partition preferable to the loss of the
entire country, which was the only other alternative.

In despair he threatened to abdicate, appealed to the British
Minister in Warsaw. But England had her own troubles at the
moment, and the rest of Europe turned a deaf ear to his plea.
With the troops of the three partitioning powers already in
provisional occupation of his territories he could only sign the
Act of Partition which sold his people into slavery.

The next twenty years saw a period of evolution in Europe.
Everywhere the old order was changing. Frederick the Great
of Prussia and Maria Theresa of Austria, bulwarks of absolute
monarchy, died. A breath of independence was wafted over
the nations, raised the whirlwind or Revolution in France. And
in the stricken and dismembered Poland there came into be
ing a constitutional reform far ahead of its time. The King
shook off the leading-strings of St. Petersburg and became
for the first time the real leader of his people. A committee
of patriots drew up the New Constitution of May 3rd, 1791,
abolishing the old elective system of monarchy with all its
attendant evils, increasing the Army, granting reform to the
peasants and privileges to the middle and lower classes. It was
a triumph of liberal progress, inspired by freedom of mind in
a shackled people.

It only accelerated the inevitable disaster. Catherine of Rus
sia saw in it a menace to her own authority. Her agents had
not failed to report on the new and independent spirit which
was gaining ground among the Polish peasants. She could not
afford to have it spread to the wretched serfs of Russia, and
before there was any chance of it doing so it must be nipped
in the bud.

She appealed to the cupidity of Frederick William of Prus
sia who had succeeded his uncle, Frederick the Great, sug
gested a further share-out of Poland. Between them they drew
up the Second Partition in 1793. After months of haggling
and barter in which each strove to outwit the other and get
possession of the choicest spoils, they arrived at a compro-

J2 PILSUDSKI

mise by which Russia gained the Palatinates of Kieff, Minsk,
Braclaw, and most of Volhynia, while Prussia got possession
of the long-coveted prize of Danzig and Thorn and the prov
inces of Posen, Kalisz and Plock. A further carve-up was in
evitable with Austria, too, clamouring for her share, and the
dismembered country was not even left time in which to heal
her wounds and reorganize her dissmayed population. With
the Third Partition, which was signed two years later, her
martyrdom was accomplished* Her remaining territories were
parcelled out between Russia, Prussia and Austria, Her name
as an independent state disappeared from among the nations.
Her king, Stanislas Augustus, was forced to abdicate, A broken
and humiliated old man, cursed by his own subjects and de
spised by the rest of Europe, he was still drawn as though by
an irresistible magnet to the Court which had been his ruin.
He retired to St. Petersburg to live out the rest of his days.
There he had his last interview with Catherine a few weeks
before her death.

He did not long survive her, He ended his days in St. Peters
burg, and the men and women who had been his subjects
forgave him in death for his betrayal of them and mourned
him sincerely because he was the last link with all that had
been swept away*

But fetters cannot kill the spirit of freedom in a people al
though they may cripple it, and out of the gloom and despair
that settled over Poland there emerged again and again leaders
and patriots who blazoned their names in chapters as glorious
as they were tragic, who fought against overwhelming odds,
were defeated and died, having failed in their object. Vet they
left behind them a memory to inspire those who came after, a
trail to be followed no matter how great the sacrifice. And of
these men one was Kosciuszko, the first patriot to raise the
standard of war against the partitioning powers. The rebellion
which he led in 1 794 is one of the epics of Polish history*

Thaddeus Kosciuszko was a Lithuanian of noble birth who
had spent many years in America, fought with Washington in
the War of Independence, and acted as aide-de-camp to La
Fayette, showing such gallantry and resource that he was
promoted to the rank of Brigadier-General, His contact with

LOOKING BACK 73

the New World had given him experience of military tech
nique acquired under the greatest generals of his day, a standard
of efficiency in advance of that of his contemporaries, and a
broad and human outlook.

From the beginning he constituted himself the leader of
the common people, the first Polish noble to break through
the age-old caste traditions. He had learnt that courage in the
field is not dependent on birth or tradition. He had seen men
drawn from the dregs of the American populace, the sweepings
of the camps, ragged and drunken, fighting like Spartans under
the banner of Washington, standing firm under the onslaughts
of the picked British troops. He looked for that same valour
and endurance in the humble peasants of his own land. And
found it. He was the first leader to treat them as anything other
than slaves of the soil, to appeal directly to them as sons
of their country, capable of defending it against the invaders.
He went about among them, roused their patriotism, called
upon that love of the land that is innate in every peasant,
showed his confidence in them. And in return they followed
him to a man, gave him a devotion almost amounting to wor
ship, and an unswerving loyalty that was consummated in
death for thousands of them. At his bidding they left their
farms and marched out to encounter the Russian troops at
Raclawiezc. Armed only with their scythes and hunting-knives,
they stood unflinching under cavalry charges in which they
were mown down like grass. They flung themselves on the
Russian cannon and captured them, over mounds of their
own dead. They drove the enemy from the field with heavy
losses.

The flame of revolt flared through the country. A brigade
of Polish cavalry swept down upon Cracow and routed the
Russian garrison. The artisans of Warsaw formed themselves
into battalions and drove the Russians from the city. There
were risings in Lithuania.

But the peasant troops for all their courage were no match
for the joint armies of Russia and Prussia which advanced upon
them in overwhelming numbers over the plains of the Bug, and
at Maciejowice two-thirds of them were annihilated, while
Kosciuszko himself was wounded and taken prisoner.

74 PILSUDSKI

The victorious Russians marched upon Warsaw which was
being held by a small number of Polish troops reinforced by
citizens, numbering some eleven thousand in all. After two
days of desperate fighting the city was forced to surrender.
Its capitulation was followed by one of the most cruel mas
sacres in history, for the Russian soldiers roamed the streets
butchering men, women and children, till the very gutters ran
red. In the space of a few hours twelve thousand people were
put to the sword or thrown into the river.

The revolt was broken* The star of Poland had shone once
more for so brief a moment, only to set in blood.

Yet time and again the dream of freedom hovered over the
country. Once when its destiny was linked with that of Na
poleon. The obscure young officer who had risen to power
through the storm of the French Revolution, the leader of a
people which had thrown off its chains, caught the imagination
of the youth of Poland. Thousands of recruits from all classes
flocked to his standard. The Polish Legion of the Grande
Arme was formed on foreign soil, just as it has been formed
to-day. It fought with rising enthusiasm through every cam
paign against the partitioning powers. With the defeat of
Prussia a new era seemed to be dawning, and when Napoleon
entered Warsaw in triumph after the battle of Poltusk he was
hailed as a deliverer. But true to his policy of egoism gave
little but compliments and vague promises* He was more con
cerned over his war with Russia tnan over the freedom of the
Poles. He defeated the Russians at Friedland, founded the
Grand Duchy of Warsaw with a great show of liberality, and
then applied himself to dealing with Austria.

During the five years that followed, the Poles bore their
disappointment as philosophically as they might. They had
given their loyalty to Napoleon and they would not retract it
When he embarked upon his final and disastrous war with
Russia, their hopes were rekindled, for finding them necessary
to his plans he guaranteed them, in return for their support,
the full restoration of their ancient territories and rights, Once
again they believed him. The French Ambassador, at a meet
ing of the Diet of Warsaw, delivered many flowery prom
ise^ and amid scenes of frenzied enthusiasm a Polish army

LOOKING BACK 75

of eighty thousand assembled and marched with the French
on Moscow.

Not more than three thousand of them returned. The Rus
sians, following up their triumph, captured Warsaw, abol
ished the Grand Duchy, and took possession of all the terri
tories from which they had been driven. But ideals die hard,
and so at Waterloo there was still the remnant of a Polish
Legion fighting in the cause of the Emperor who had betrayed
their trust.

After the fall of Napoleon Poland was once again parti
tioned by the Congress of Vienna. Austria was given Galicia,
with the exception of the province of Cracow, which was es
tablished as an independent republic; Prussia regained Danzig,
Thorn and the province of Posen, while Russia took the largest
share, the Grand Duchy of Warsaw, which she undertook to
maintain as a separate kingdom with the Czar as king. Once
again a faint ray of hope illumined the darkness, for the young
Czar Alexander I was impulsive, easily moved to sympathy
and full of liberal intentions which he had not the tenacity
of purpose to carry out. In the first flush of enthusiasm he
championed the Polish cause at the Congress of Vienna val
iantly and with apparent sincerity and therefore when he en
tered Warsaw in 1815 as its new ruler, he was acclaimed by
the people. They had been accustomed in the past to receiv
ing a foreigner as their king, and this one was a figure of
chivalry. He had promised them complete liberty, a constitu
tion of their own and the perpetuation of the Polish nationality
and language. In spite of the sufferings that Russia had inflicted
on them in the past they were prepared to accept him and even
to give him loyalty.

He kept his promises to them with a Constitution that was
fair and liberal, but with characteristic carelessness he did not
take the trouble to see that it was properly drawn up, and
therefore it contained a number of clauses open to misinter
pretation which were exploited by his successor. The choice
of the Grand Duke Constantine, a moral degenerate and a
despot with all the failings of the house of Romanoff and none
of its virtues, as Commander-in-Chief of the Polish Army was
another blunder, for under his unjust and tyrannical regime

j6 PTLSUDSKI

there was constant friction. Even so, however, there were ten
years of peace and comparative prosperity until in 1825 Alex
ander died, still full of promises to his Polish subjects, promises
which he was never to redeem.

His brother Nicholas I who succeeded him was a man of
very different calibre, ruthless, harsh and unbending, whose
only argument was force. From the beginning he regarded the
Poles as potential rebels to be terrorized into submission. His
agents roamed the country, ordering arrests of "saspects"
whenever it pleased them, generally without the faintest justi
fication, often because of some private grudge. For five years
exasperation rose steadily, reached boiling-point with the In
surrection of 1830.

It was a tragic, abortive affair, doomed to failure from
the outbreak though it lasted for nearly a year in spite of
desperate odds and the immense superiority in numbers of
the Russian army which was sent to quell it- When at length
the last lingering spark was extinguished it was punished
with a savage ferocity intended to serve as a warning not
only to Poland but to the Russians themselves, lest they, too,
should cherish any false illusions* So in many a village the
baying of the imperial bloodhounds was heard at night as they
tracked their quany to the woods. Hundreds of men were
dragged out of their houses and shot or hanged, thousands
were sent to the salt mines of Siberia. Their estates were con
fiscated and sold by auction, knocked down to Russian bidders
for a fraction of their value. Their wives and families were
expatriated to remote districts of Russia and left there to
starve.

All the semblance of freedom that even the perfidious Alex
ander had respected was swept away. His Constitution was
annulled. The Polish Army was abolished, its forces were in
corporated with the Imperial Army* The national flag was
no longer permitted to be displayed. Russian was made the
compulsory language. Russians filled all the posts in the Gov
ernment, swaggered about the cities, forced the shopkeepers
to sell to them at their own price.

Poland could onty endure in silence as she had learnt to
endure in years of misery* Her men were flung into cages like

LOOKING BACK 77

wild beasts, manacled and chained together and herded into
columns to be marched to the Siberian mines. Her women
wept at her wayside shrines on their way to toil in the fields
for the Russians who had taken possession of their lands. Her
children grew up to manhood before ever they had been
young. Out of the mute suffering of millions was born the
music of Chopin, the poetry of Slowacki and Mickiewicz.

Thirty years passed. Another generation grew up, burning
with resentment at the wrongs inflicted upon it, longing to
throw off its fetters. A generation not yet crushed by failure
and who had not known the bitterness of defeat. So in hun
dreds of homes, in manor houses and in students lodgings, in
city slums and in lonely peasant huts the fierce patriotism that
had so long been cherished in secret burst into a flame that
spread throughout the land. The Insurrection of 1863.

It was not a well-planned and carefully organized revolt.

JL Jo

It broke out here and there with no definite program. But
it came from the very soul of Poland, the spirit of freedom
crucified but living stall.

It was the revolt of youth. In towns and villages and in
isolated farms young men and women, undeterred by mem
ories of the retribution that had fallen on their fathers, banded
themselves together in one common impulse to liberate their
country. Those who had money to give gave it, the landowners
mortgaged their farms, the poor parted with their savings.
Boys still in their teens started drilling by moonlight in de
serted woods and meadows, women and girls collected stores
and acted as messengers between the different centres. A num
ber of young men, many of them the sons of the greatest fam
ilies in Poland, went to the Military Academy at Cuneo to
study tactics in preparation for taking command. Others were
sent to Paris to buy rifles and ammunition, but the French au
thorities, distrusting their activities, had them arrested, and
only released them after lengthy investigations. Representatives
who went to England were more successful, for they succeeded
in rousing the sympathies of the liberal-minded North-country
arms manufacturers who gave them credit, and guns were
smuggled into Poland in small quantities at a time.

But long before the plan had time to ripen the Czar s agents

78 PILSXJDSKI

noted the signs of growing restlessness, made their reports to
St. Petersburg.

Russia had only one way of dealing with discontent. Poles
who were chafing under the yoke must be made to feel the
goad. A measure was brought in conscripting all men of mili
tary age in Poland. In order to make the lesson still more effec
tive, no warning was given. Thousands of young men were
seized at work or in their homes at night, packed off to Russian
barracks in Siberia or the Caucasus without even time to bid
farewell to their families.

It was the one spark needed to precipitate the conflagra
tion. The half-matured plans were hurriedly put into action.
The call to arms echoed over the whole country. The Cadets
came back from Cuneo, put themselves at the heads of hastily
formed units. Polish flags were taken out of their hiding-places
and proudly displayed, forbidden songs were sung once more.
Every valley rang with the tramp of marching men* The
proportion of rifles was pitifully inadequate, but there was no
time to wait for more. Those who had fowling-pieces carried
them, those who had not brought their scythes and reaping
hooks which were made to serve as lances after the blades
had been beaten out straight* The fires in many a village
smithy were kept roaring all night, for the work could only
be done in secret* In the churches the priests preached the
crusade for freedom, came out of their pulpits and marched
with the recruits into battle, gave them absolution as they lay
dying in hundreds,

It was a lost cause and a doomed army. An army without
money and without equipment, with no military experts to
plan its campaign, with no assets except its own unquenchable
courage. Yet for nearly two years its unskilled troops waged
a desperate fight against all the resources of the Russian Gov
ernment. They fought in battalions, and they fought in scat
tered bands in the woods and the fields, Their scanty supplies
of food and clothing gave out, but still they fought on, half-
starved, barefooted and in rags. Armed with their reaping-
hooks and shotguns, they faced the Russian Artillery brigades.
The Czar sent regiment after regiment to quell them, blood was
poured out like water, but still the revolt continued to spread*

LOOKING BACK 79

No sooner was it suppressed in one district than it broke out
in another. It was the strength of an ideal pitted against ma
terial force.

Behind that army, composed of the flower of its youth, the
nation waited and prayed and made sacrifices. The rich almost
beggared themselves to buy ammunition, the peasants gave
the produce of their farms down to the last bushel of grain, the
owners of country houses turned them into hospitals and nursed
the wounded, unmindful of the death penalty for harbouring
rebels. "It was a sublime effort" . . . wrote Joseph Pilsudsla
in describing it years afterwards . . . "an effort in which
every one in the land, old and young, man, woman and child,
shared. A unity of purpose so beautiful and so great that the
vast military force of Russia with all the weight of its Govern
ment machinery behind it, could not destroy it. The strength
and power of that resistance lay not in the guns that were
carried through woods and marshes, but in the sublime self-
sacrifices of the whole civilian community which sent forth
that army and protected it, in the spiritual height to which the
nation was able to attain. It was defeated, but that defeat is
one of the most beautiful leaves in Poland s crown of laurels."

The Czar s vengeance on the vanquished was swift and bar
baric. He proceeded to administer a lesson to Poland which
shocked the whole of Europe. In England the House of Com
mons debated the question of active interference and expressed
the view that the treatment of the Poles by all three parti
tioning powers was a flagrant violation of the Treaty of
Vienna. As a result the Government, which was then under
Lord Palmerston, addressed a strong remonstrance to Russia,
asking for a full amnesty for all concerned in the Insurrection
and suggesting various reforms in the policy which had been
adopted towards Poland.

The answer was disarming in its hypocrisy. The Czar af
firmed his earnest intention "to provide for the welfare of
his subjects of all races and of every religious conviction as an
obligation which he had accepted before God, his conscience
and his people."

Palmerston, however deep his sympathy with Poland, would
not contemplate a war with Russia on her behalf, and therefore

80 PILSUDSKI

there was nothing further to be done. So the civilized world
averted its face while thirty thousand Poles were shot or flogged
to death by Russian knouts, and another hundred and fifty
thousand were exiled. Once more the long processions wound
northwards to Siberia. The more fortunate fell by the roadside
and died still in their chains. The rest went on to the doom
that was worse than death. The flame that had burnt so ardently
was quenched in blood and tears.

I was born more than twenty years afterwards but I can
remember how the women used to sit around the fires at night
and talk in hushed voices of the things they had seen in those
days, and the almost incredulous joy in the village which
greeted the return of an exiled son or husband, for of the many
who went to Siberia few ever came back.

My grandmother s two brothers were among those who
paid a heavy price for their part in the Insurrection. The elder
ended his days in the prison of the Katorga, in solitary con
finement in an eight foot cell, with iron fetters on his wrists
and ankles and a fifteen pound weight hanging between his
knees lest he should try to escape. The younger came back
after twenty years of exile in Siberia to sit huddled over the
stove for the rest of his life, crippled with rheumatism, scarred
with the marks of the knout, but undefeated. His eyes had
still the fire of youth in a sunken face. When he talked it was
with the words and thoughts of the eighteen-year-old boy he
had been when he was arrested. Child though I was I was struck
by the incongruity of a prematurely aged body and a mind
eternally young. Later I saw it many times, always in men who
had returned from Siberia. In the silence and loneliness of exile,
life had stood still for them. The passing of the years had left
no impression upon them because rime had ceased to exist.

I was very fond of this Great Uncle Ludwig, perhaps be
cause he always treated me as an equal and never as a child.
In the long winter evenings I used to draw my chair up to his
(after I had first tiptoed to the door to make sure the servants
were not spying on us, for I knew our danger even in those
days) and listen to his stories of the Insurrection and of the men
who had led it- And as he talked there awoke in my heart the
first feeling of love for my country and the desire to free her.

CHAPTER Vll

As THE child of a patriot family I grew up in an atmosphere
of secret rebellion. The survivors of the last Insurrection, who
had oifered up their youth so gladly at the altar of freedom,
were grey-haired men and women, outwardly resigned to
their lot, even as my grandmother appeared to be. But the flame
of resistance burnt within them as steadfastly as ever. They
had fought their battle and lost, as their fathers had done be
fore them, but they could still pass on the trust to their sons
and daughters. So the undercurrent of revolt was always there.
It was on the lips of confident youth, in the haunted eyes of
men who came back broken from Siberia. It beat in the hearts
of the old, it breathed in the very air. It was always there be
cause never for a moment in our daily lives were we allowed
to forget the Russian yoke.

The Governors and officials appointed by St. Petersburg
availed themselves of their opportunities to exercise as many
petty tyrannies as they chose. There were, of course, excep
tions among these men, but the majority of them were without
tact or judgment, owing their positions to the widespread sys
tem of intrigue and bribery which was one of the contributing
causes of the Russian Revolution. Imoretinski, one of their own
compatriots, wrote of them. . . .

"From the very start of his appointment in Poland the
Russian Government employee, ill-bred, semi-educated and
injudicious, sees in every Pole a man who has been con
quered, his country s enemy and his own. He sees himself
as the conqueror, and, acting on the proverb that the con
quered are outside the law/ he considers himself accountable
to no one for his treatment of them, and is troubled neither
by public opinion nor his own conscience."

These men were the arbiters of our destiny and conditions
varied in the different districts according to their individual

Si

82 PILSUDSKI

dispositions. Some were harsh and overbearing, others drunken
bullies who paid their gambling debts with money extorted
from the Jews and wealthy tradesmen as the price of their
protection.

The landowners, like my grandmother, were taxed out of
existence to provide money which was squandered on the ex
travagances of the Imperial Court, their sons were barred from
a military career unless they chose to serve in one of the Russian
regiments, and handicapped by their nationality in the choice
of a profession. We were not even permitted to speak our own
language or to receive any education except at approved Rus
sian schools. Practically all our literature was banned, for our
poets had sung of freedom, and heavy penalties were imposed
on those found in possession of their works. Our history too
was a sealed book. The victories of John Sobiejki and Stefan
Batory, whose fame had rung through Europe, had been
blotted out* We had to learn instead the names and dates of
every Grand Duke in the Russian hierarchy. Only in our own
homes did we dare to speak of the forbidden past and read be
hind locked doors books printed in England or Switzerland
and smuggled into the country.

My education and that of my brother and sisters was some
thing of a problem, for my grandmother refused to let us at
tend a Russian school and heavy penalties were enforced both
on those who "practised illegal education** and on those who
permitted their children to receive it* Finally a friend came
to the rescue and offered to set apart one of the rooms in his
house as a schoolroom for us and his own nieces, and several
other children in the neighbourhood. A teacher was found,
a widow of fifty who was an ardent patriot. Apart from the
fact that she ran the risk of imprisonment for educating us,
her post was no sinecure for there were eighteen of us and
as our ages ranged from three to fifteen the planning of the
time-table needed considerable ingenuity. However, she rose
to the occasion and not only succeeded in teaching us the
usual subjects but in making us enjoy them. I can still re
member the thrill of adventure in hurrying off to school with
my lesson books hidden under my coat or disguised in par
cels, after being warned by Aunt Maria of the danger of tell-

LOOKING BACK 83

ing any one where I was going. But after some years of coping
valiantly with her unequal task, our patriotic little teacher was
taken ill and as there was no one to replace her Grandmother
was faced with the alternative of either sending me to the
Russian Gymnase at Suvalki or discontinuing my education
altogether.

The question of educating their children was one of the
many difficulties which beset the Poles under Russian rule.
After the Insurrection of 1863, all Polish schools were declared
illegal and so rigorously abolished that, incredible as it seems,
there were actually fewer schools in existence in Poland at
the close of the nineteenth century than there had been in
the Middle Ages. In accordance with their system of keeping
the Polish peasants and working classes on a level with their
own in Russia, the Government made no provisions whatever
for their education. It was practically impossible to find one
who could even read or write. For the children of middle-class
families there was only the Gymnase, that is to say, a sec
ondary school run by the Russian Government and divided
into two sections, for boys and girls.

After a long struggle with her patriotism, Grandmother
bowed to the inevitable. My elder sister was old enough to
leave school altogether; the ones below me were young enough
to stay at home and take a few lessons with Aunt Maria. But
I, at eleven years old, needed disciplined class-work, for owing
to the rather erratic education I had so far received I was too
far advanced in some subjects and too backward in others.
So she decided to send me to the Gymnase, but, characteristi
cally, made up her mind so suddenly that I was left with only
two months in which to learn sufficient Russian to get through
the entrance examination at the beginning of the term. Since
not a word of Russian had ever been spoken in our house I
was at a serious disadvantage and a special teacher had to be
engaged to give me daily lessons. Even now I think of those
weeks with resentment, for while the rest of the family went
to the country for the summer holidays, I was forced to stay
in Suvalki, grappling with Russian irregular verbs. But I man
aged to scrape through the examination in time for the au
tumn term.

84 PILSUDSKI

The Gymnase in Poland gave, at least where girls were
concerned, an education very much inferior to those of corre
sponding schools in Russia. At the same time it was Russian
ized to the last degree. Although three-quarters of the pupils
were Polish there was not a single Polish teacher on the staff,
with the exception of the priest, and even he owed his ap
pointment to the fact that it would have been out of the ques
tion for a Russian priest of the Greek Orthodox faith to give
lessons in the Roman Catholic doctrine. The Scripture classes
were the only ones in which a word of Polish was ever uttered.
All other lessons were given in Russian, even those on our own
Polish language, which we had to learn from Russian text
books, like French or any other foreign language. If during
recess we forgot in talking to one another and lapsed into
Polish in the hearing of any of the teachers we were imme
diately punished by being kept in.

Never a day passed in which we did not have to hear scorn
being heaped upon our nation. The teachers, to show their
own loyalty, vied with one another in trying to instil into us
the sense of our inferiority and the might of Russia. History
lessons afforded a special opportunity for this, and we used
to sit through them listening to taunts and false propaganda,
seething with rage which we dared not show while the few
Russian girls in our midst sat smilingly conscious of their own
superiority. The atmosphere was tense with hatred and the
seeds thus sown bore bitter fruit in after years.

This anti-Polish campaign was so ridiculously exaggerated
that it extended even to the most trivial things. We were, for
instance, ordered to wear our hair after the Russian fashion,
combed smoothly back from the forehead, plaited, and ar
ranged in a coil at the nape of the neck* Once I had the temerity
to wind my long plaits round my head to frame my face* The
result was a storm lasting for days, not because I had dis
obeyed a rule but because I had adopted the traditional Polish
coiffure. I was called out before the whole class, made to stand
on the teacher s platform, take down my hair and rearrange
it* Then I was solemnly reported to tne Governor of the
Gymnase for "rebellious tendencies" and kept in after school
for the remainder of the week while the other girls were

LOOKING BACK 85

not allowed to speak to me during recess. It was my first ges
ture of patriotism, and I got a stubborn satisfaction out of it
though I never had the courage to repeat the experiment.

Since persecution only serves to strengthen a cause, this
amazingly shortsighted Russian propaganda not only failed in
its object but had a completely reverse effect. The Gymnase
might ban our Polish history and literature, but it could not
prevent our reading them in our own homes. Its determination
to stamp out our language made us all the more fiercely re
solved to keep it alive, and we not only met to study it in
secret after school hours, but each of us undertook to teach
at least one child of the working-class to read and write it
so that it should be preserved among them too. These children
used to join us in the evenings and on Sunday afternoons and
share in all our illegal studies, and neither they nor their par
ents ever betrayed us in spite of their great poverty and the
substantial rewards offered by the Russian Government to
any one furnishing such information. The forbidden books of
history and poetry were supplied to us by a young lawyer who
kept in secret a whole library of books smuggled in from Switz
erland which he lent to patriotic families, regardless of the risk
which he incurred, for the penalties for being found in posses
sion of banned literature were very heavy. I can still remember
the scandal at the Gymnase when it was discovered that a
fifteen-year-old student in the boys section had a copy of the
patriotic poems of Slowacki hidden in his desk. The head
master notified the Russian police with the result that he was
immediately put under arrest. Fortunately he escaped from
prison while awaiting trial, crossed the frontier, and with the
help of friends succeeded in getting to America.

Those years in Suvalki were happy, indeed some of the
happiest in my life, for the sombre background of patriot
ism and the sorrow of an elder generation were lightened by
our youth and gaiety. The stately old house that had hidden
rebels and harboured fierce resentment and passionate hate
used to ring with laughter in the evenings when we danced
the mazurka and the oberek in the salon. I loved dancing for
I was tall and slim and very supple in those days, full of
a tireless energy and a vitality that would not let my body

86 PILSUDSKI

droop and be discouraged no matter how sad I might be in
spirit. On Sunday afternoons we used to go out to the forest,
a big party of young people packed tightly in wagonettes,
and dance on the sward under the pine trees till the sun went
down and the last rays of daylight faded into the purple of
the distant hills. Then we would throw ourselves down on
the ground panting and laughing while some of us gathered
sticks and made a fire and others set out the supper. When
it was ready it would have the faint tang of the smoking wood
and fir cones, but to us with appetites sharpened by air and
exercise it seemed delicious.

There were winter days when we skated on the frozen pond
in the garden and tried to arrive at complicated figures and
waltz on our skates: and summer holidays when we roamed
over the plains and picked the masses of blue and yellow irises
on the banks of the river. We were all very young, very en
thusiastic, very sure of ourselves and of life, and full of plans
for changing the whole universe. We discussed a great many
things which we understood only vaguely, or not at all, and
held many theories which we had to discard later. They were
as much a part of the process of springtime as the catkins we
gathered every year.

I was seventeen when I left the Gymnase and by that time
the seeds planted in my childhood had taken root. I had only
one aim in life. To fight for Poland s freedom* The love of
country is natural to every child, but the awakening to it usu
ally comes in some moment of pride and splendour, with the
waving of flags and the strains of national music. But for me
and for all the children of Poland it was different. There was
no glory attached to our patriotism, only an undying loyalty
to a lost cause, and a flag that had been torn down and trampled
in the mud. It was a sad and sober emotion. It meant secret
meetings and fugitive flights in the night, and sooner or later,
retribution. Its martyrs were uncrowned and unexalted, shot
down like dogs in the street or bundled off to the silence of Si
beria. A hard road without splendour or romance to glorify it,
but we had to follow it.

So the main essential in choosing a career was to find one
which would bring me into contact with the people whom I

LOOKING BACK 87

wanted to influence. There I was guided by remembering
Uncle Ludwig s stories of the Insurrection of 1863. He had
often impressed upon me the main flaw in its organization
the lack of co-operation between the upper classes and the
peasantry.

Now the Polish peasants, notwithstanding the misery of
their lot, have always been by nature a far freer people than
the serfs of Russia, perhaps because they were not originally
enslaved to the same extent. In the Middle Ages when the
Russian Boyards wielded the power of life and death over the
wretched tenantry whom they owned body and soul, and
even the far more civilized French noblesse exercised le droit
de seigneur and taxed and plundered their peasants without
mercy, two countries thought to free their slaves of the soil,
England by her Magna Carta and other laws, and Poland by
the Statute of Wislicki accorded by Casimir the Great. This
last contained the somewhat crude but none the less necessary
clause that a peasant was released from all obligations towards
a master who attempted the honour of his wife or daughter,
and further provided that his worldly possessions could not
be taken from him by his lord s armed troops.

But whereas the social system of England enabled her peas
ants to use their freedom so constructively that from them arose
the great yeoman class, the peasants of Poland were forced
by circumstances to occupy a place in the scale little above
that of the beasts they tended. All through the period of con
stitutional evolution when the West of Europe was slowly
beginning to recognize the rights of the individual, they were
kept chained, victims of a lax monarchy and a too power
ful nobility. Instead of sharing in the development of the coun
try, they were actually pushed backwards by it. The great
Polish grain trade which began in the latter half of the fifteenth
century, when the first cargoes of wheat were shipped down
the Vistula to Danzig to be sold in the foreign markets, while
it enriched the upper classes and turned an impoverished
knighthood into a prosperous wheat-producing landed gentry,
brought misery to the peasants. As more and more labourers
were needed to till the fields and cut the corn they became
valuable assets to their landlords, and laws were passed

88 PILSUDSKI

binding them to conditions little better than slavery. Gradu
ally they were deprived of first one privilege and then another.
A decree granted by the weak King John Albrecht in an
effort to curry favour with the landowners, establishing that
of a family of peasants only one child in each generation could
leave the estate on which he was born, harnessed them and
their descendants in perpetual bondage to their lords. Another
statute, excluding them from any court of law except a tribunal
presided over by their own masters, denied them even the pre
tence of justice.

As time passed the original code, which had always been
elastic where the landlord was concerned, was stretched still
further. The peasant who paid no rent for his little plot of
land and his miserable hut, but gave in return for it so many
days of labour a week, was forced to work longer and longer
hours, to toil from dawn to darkness in his master s fields
so that he had not time to cultivate his own holding on which
he and his family depended for food. Slowly he declined into
abject poverty. Whereas his forefathers had been free men,
comparatively well-to-do, able to send a son to the University
or provide a dowry for a daughter, he was able, even in the
best of seasons, to wrest only a bare livelihood from the soil.
Yet whether the yield from his ground was good or bad a cer
tain proportion of it was claimed by the landlord as his due,
for nothing that the peasant had was his own, not even the
milk from his cow, if he was fortunate enough to keep one,
the eggs from his fowls, or the firewood he gathered. He was
only entitled to what was left over after his master had been
supplied.

Centuries passed. Centuries ^ during which Europe was In
the melting-pot, when countries were shaped and reshaped.
Poland rose to the pinnacle of her greatness, declined slowly,
and lost her place among the free nations. But the peasants,
uneducated, brutalized, dulled into submission by toil and
hardship, remained in apathy, neither knowing nor caring
for the changing world outside their own small radius* They
lived out their span^of years, resigned because their fathers
had never had anything better, unresisting because they were
unconscious of their own strength* Begat generations to drive

LOOKING BACK 89

the plough and till the fields, and were absorbed back into
the earth.

Then out of the drab background of their lives flashed the
figure of the patriot Kosciuszko, the first leader to awaken
in them love of their country. He gave them another per
spective. He was a noble, one of the class they had been ac
customed to fear and to obey. Yet he spoke to them as one
of themselves. His words clothed them for the first time in
dignity and self-respect for he appealed to them as the natural
defenders of the soil, made them realize their own responsibil
ity in the defence of their country. Thousands upon thousands
of them flocked to his standard, fought heroically beside him
and shared in his defeat.

But Kosciuszko, although he could not liberate them, left
behind him the spirit of freedom in them and in their de
scendants. For a brief while they had been conscious of their
own strength, and that consciousness was never wholly to
leave them. Alexander II, one of the most astute of Russian
Czars, realized it seventy years later and deliberately exploited
it in an attempt to break the Insurrection of 1863.

One of the first acts of the Polish National Government
which was set up during the Insurrection was to proclaim the
liberty of the peasants, and give them free grants of their
holdings of land, a measure which discontented certain of the
great landowners who, alarmed at the prospect of an emanci
pated tenantry, held themselves aloof. This possible cause of
dissension was immediately seized upon by the Czar, and Rus
sian agents were sent far and wide through Poland with in
structions to win over the peasantry with tempting offers, pro
vided they would disassociate themselves from the revolt.

But the seeds of patriotism planted by Kosciuszko had not
fallen upon stony ground. In spite of the wretchedness of their
lot the peasants stood firm, loyal to the memory of the man who
had led their fathers against the oppressor and to the love of
their country which he had taught them. The blandishments of
the agents met with negative results, and the peasant troops
were among those who fought most gallantly in the ill-fated
Insurrection.

When the terrible aftermath of 1863 had at length sub-

90 PILSUDSKI

sided and the Russian bayonets were satiated with blood,
Alexander with a magnanimous gesture passed a measure giv
ing the peasants their holdings of land in perpetuity, with the
condition attached that they must pay taxes, a portion of
which would be made over by the Government as compensa
tion to the landowners. It was a move which met with the
approval of no one except the agents who went about the
countryside loudly praising the generosity of the Little Father.
The peasants had suffered too bitterly in the Insurrection to
have much enthusiasm for the future and saw in the pros
pect of taxation only fresh ground for oppression. The land
owners on the other hand were angry at being deprived of
the greater part of their estates and had no faith in the Rus
sian Government s promises of compensation. As a means
of rapprochement between the Czar and his Polish subjects, if
indeed it was ever intended to be such, the scheme failed
utterly.

It did, however, bring about radical changes in the social
life of Poland. The smaller landowners found that their de
pleted estates no longer sufficed to keep them in even tol
erable comfort, still less the luxuries which they had been ac
customed to regard as their due. Little by little they were
forced to sell their remaining lands, migrate to the cities and
go into trade, or one of the professions. Their forefathers
who had composed the proudest, most conservative nobil
ity in Europe would have held themselves dishonoured by mere
association with the commercial world, but the younger gen
eration, after a vain attempt to exist on their patrimony, sunk
their scruples and before long many of the oldest names in
Polish history were identified with mills and factories. A middle
class, hitherto non-existent in Poland, was created*

Curiously enough these pioneers whose families from time
immemorial had never soiled their hands with anything re
motely resembling work, revealed a surprising aptitude for
trade and the professions. The abolition of the Russian fron
tier dues gave them a wide market for their wares. Their
industries flourished despite the unjust and crippling taxes
imposed by the Russian Government. Mines were developed,
railroads built, Warsaw began to rank with the great com-

LOOKING BACK 91

mercial cities of the West of Europe, thriving cotton looms
turned the ancient town of Lodz into the Manchester of
Poland.

And with the migration of the landowners came the mi
gration of many of their former serfs, for the peasants too
were affected by the general reshuffle. The old social system,
bad as it was, had at least assumed responsibility for them,
even while it kept them in servitude. The great households
of their masters had absorbed their ever-increasing families
of sons and daughters. Forced to rely upon their own re
sources they found that they could scarcely gain even a bare
living from the ground. So they, too, began to leave the land
for the cities which had need of their youth and strength to
feed the new looms and factories.

It was the old bondage in a new phase. Instead of tilling
the fields and cutting the corn at the bidding of their master
they hewed his coal or tended his machines. The slavery
of the land became the slavery of a starvation wage and a
thirteen-hour day. And they wore their chains in dull resigna
tion as their parents had done because they had known nothing
better.

CHAPTER Vlll

AT THE beginning of this century there were scarcely any
professions open to women even in the West of Europe and
still fewer in Poland and Russia. Although a few courageous
pioneers were blazing the trail into the spheres of University
education, out of which was to emerge later the great figure
of Marie Curie, they were regarded with something akin to
horror by people like my Aunt Maria who held that mental
activity of any sort was unfeminine and that every well-
brought-up girl ought to find sufficient occupation in needle
work, painting lampshades, and reading light novels.

There was dire consternation then when on leaving the
Gymnase I begged to be allowed to continue my studies with
a view to earning my own living later* In the first place it
would necessitate my going away for I had already reached
the pinnacle of education in Suvalki, and secondly there arose
the problem of where I was to go. There was no universities for
women in, Russian Poland and even if I wished to be admitted
to one in Russia I should have to wait until I was twenty-one,
another four years. The only alternative was the Commercial
College in Warsaw, which was just then beginning to take a
few girl students, and which gave much the same advantages
as a University with the addition of a special business course.

When I broached the subject Aunt Maria was* as I had
feared, shocked at the mere suggestion of any one in the family,
least of all a woman, going into trade, but Grandmother unex
pectedly proved my ally. I think that, although we never
spoke of it, she realized that my ideal was the same as her
own and was determined to let nothing stand in my way* In
stead of opposing me she immediately set aside the necessary
money and wrote to the Principal of the College, I entered it
in the autumn term.

Although the old Polish University of Warsaw had been
abolished after the Insurrection and a Russian University had

92

LOOKING BACK 93

been instituted in its stead, the penalties for "illegal education"
were not so strictly enforced there as in Suvalki and other
provincial towns. A number of private schools, entirely Polish
in language and character, were enabled to continue with
out interference by the simple expedient of bribing the Russian
functionaries. As most of the pupils came from wealthy Polish
families, large sums were paid over regularly as the price of
official silence.

The boarding-school to which I went, which was attached
to the Commercial College, came under this category. Al
though it was sanctioned by the Russian Government, the prin
cipal, Madame Siemiradska, and all the mistresses and visit
ing professors were Poles. Lessons were, of course, given in
Polish, but in every desk there were duplicate sets of text
books, one in Polish, the other in Russian. Whenever a Gov
ernment inspector arrived at the school, which was several
times in a term, the loyal old porter at the lodge would ring
a bell which echoed in every classroom. Then the Russian
books would be hurriedly taken out, the Polish ones put
away, and the professor who was lecturing would immediately
switch over into Russian. When the inspector entered he
would find nothing to report even if he questioned the class, for
all the front seats were occupied by girls who spoke fluent
Russian and could answer him correctly. Much the same
method of evading the regulations was adopted by every pri
vate school in Warsaw. In many of the fashionable pensions
de jeunes filles lessons in the forbidden Polish history or liter
ature were given during what appeared to be needlework or
drawing classes. Immediately there was a warning books would
be bundled out of sight and embroidery or sketching books
got out.

My grandmother died just before the beginning of my first
term at the Commercial College, but with her usual determina
tion she would not even hear of my remaining at home on
account of her illness and insisted on choosing my new dresses
and embroidering my initials on the store of linen I was taking
with me. She died as fearlessly as she had lived, ignoring her
own suffering, reassuring poor distracted Aunt Maria and
leaving careful instructions for the management of her estate.

94 PILSUDSKI

I wanted to weep for her but I could not, perhaps because
she had always been contemptuous of the weakness of tears
and had neither shed them herself nor let an)r of us do so in her
presence. So instead I remembered the promise I had given her
on that night when she had put the patriot s ring on my finger.
I think it must have been in her mind, too, for a few hours be
fore she died she called Aunt Maria and my uncle to her and
begged them not to oppose me in anything I might want to do,
even though they might not agree with it.

To that last injunction of hers I owed the fact that I had
much more liberty than any of the other students at Madame
Siemiradska s school, for while they, in accordance with the
strict chaperonage of those days, never went out alone, I was
allowed, with Aunt Maria s consent, to go where I would in the
city of Warsaw and to make friends outside the College. In
this way I made my first contact with political work and also
with what were known as "The Flying Universities," so named
because professors and students were continually in flight and
classes were never held at the same house twice. Their purpose
was to teach the forbidden Polish history and literature and
also sociology and political economy, subjects which were
available to Poles only at the Russian Universities, They were
attended by hundreds of young men and women drawn from
all ranks of society. We would meet in the evenings or on
Sunday afternoons, twenty or thirty of us at a time at the
house of one of the students. Sometimes it would be in the
salon or the garden of a beautiful country manor, sometimes
in the stuffy little parlour behind a shop in the poor quarters of
the city, or in an artist s attic where we had to squeeze our
selves in by sitting on the bed or on cushions on the floor*
The teachers, too, varied from famous professors to obscure
young writers, but all of them gave their services at the risk
of imprisonment and exile. It was a widespread organization
and a very practical one for it not only kept alive the sense of
unity amongst us, but it provided a means of education for
many who could not otherwise have afforded college fees.
Above all it taught us to cherish the spirit of freedom as some
thing precious which must not be suffered to die out.
Warsaw in those days was rent with political discussion.

LOOKING BACK 95

particularly the milieu frequented by the students and intel
lectuals, for a number of rival parties were contesting the field,
each armed with its own program.

The group which held the greatest number of adherents,
especially among the students and young people, was the Na
tional Democrats. This was an offshoot of the National League,
founded by Colonel Milkowski, who had been one of the
leaders of the Insurrection of 1863. In its early days it had
been a purely patriot party, whose sole aim was the inde
pendence of Poland, irrespective of class considerations, al
though much of its propaganda was directed towards the
peasantry and the masses. But with the beginning of this
century the program of the party, which was by that time
under the influence of Roman Dmowski, underwent a change.
The insistence on national independence, which had been its
keynote, started to take second place to the plan for a closer
union with Russia and the party began to send its representa
tives to the Russian Duma. Basing its new policy on the as
sumption that Poland had more to gain from Russia than any
other country, it conducted an energetic anti-German and
pro-Russian campaign, while at the same time it agitated
violently against the possibility of any Polish-Lithuanian or
Polish-Ruthenian collaboration. This was the party which was
diametrically opposed to the Polish Socialists, which was my
husband s party, and he and Roman Dmowski found them
selves adversaries in nearly every crisis in Poland s destiny
from the time of the Russo-Japanese War.

A party which at that rime gave little indication of the
importance it was to assume in Russia in the future was the
Social Democrats, which was a purely Socialist party, allied
to the Russian Socialists. In its ranks were Lenin and Trotsky
and most of the men who later became famous as Bolshevik
leaders, and a number of international Socialists among whom
was Rosa Luxemburg. Its propaganda in Poland was not
concerned with the issue of national independence, but with
gaining adherents among the working-classes to the creed of
Socialism, the destruction of the bourgeoisie and the improve
ment in the conditions of the proletariat. To this end it was
actually opposed to the restoration of Poland s freedom since

96 PILSUDSKI

it would mean the loss of the Russian markets for her trade
and consequent unemployment in the great industrial centres
like Lodz. This attitude alienated the Polish patriots, while
its gospel of economic terrorism expressed in a series of un
necessary and cold-blooded assassinations lost the party many
of its more moderate supporters,

At the other extreme of the scale was the Conservative
Party, which was upheld by the entire Polish aristocracy and
was therefore most influential in Galicia where the landowners
were all-powerful. It was the one and only political party
in Poland which received unanimous encouragement from the
Russian, German and Austrian Governments, who were aware
that revolt would never menace them from the ranks of the
aristocracy. In return for that encouragement the party in
Russian Poland dutifully deplored the Insurrection of 1863
and echoed generally the opinions of St. Petersburg.

A party which was discussed at Madame Siemiradska s
school, because she herself supported it, was the Realist Party
whose leader was the writer SwetochowskL Its policy was one
of compromise, its sole ideal the material prosperity of the
nation. To attain this it was ready to sacrifice the fight for
independence and become absorbed into the Russian orbit on
the principle that Poland having been conquered ought to
adapt herself to existing circumstances, develop her economic
resources, and grow rich on her trade with Russia. , * .

"The existence of nations does not rest on the externals
of political independence" . . . wrote Swetochowski in sum
ming up his program, . . . "If a people which has ceased to be
independent makes the fullest use of its spiritual forces and
discovers within itself reserves capable of benefiting civiliza
tion it can always declare proudly and hopefully, I exist still!
Fate has opened up to us a field of commercial and industrial
conquests which we have not yet fully explored, but in which
we shall win victories more lasting than those on which we
have hitherto set our hopes. . . "

This doctrine of complacency and self-interest gained a
large following, principally among the middle class, but to me,
corning from a family of patriots, it appeared almost in the
light of a sacrilege, I had looked forward with youthful im-

LOOKING BACK 97

patience to coming to Warsaw, believing, in my simplicity,
that I should at once find myself at the very fountain-head of
patriotism with a dozen political channels ready to make use of
my energies. Instead I was tossed in perplexity from one
party to another. At the end of six months, although I had
waded conscientiously through masses of propaganda and at
tended meetings organized by the various rival groups, I was
still uncertain as to which one to join.

In the meantime I studied hard, and read a great deal It
was at about this time that I discovered for myself the works
of Karl Marx and Kennedy and Bebel, which brought me
under the influence of Socialism. A course of Nietzsche and
Renan resulted in a phase of agnosticism which was a cause
of profound distress to Aunt Maria. She used to slip little
religious books into the boxes of cakes and home-made pre
serves which Anusia sent me every week from Suvalki, but I
put them away unread, tolerantly contemptuous in the light of
my superior knowledge. Only at the end of long years and after
many storms did my faith come back to me, and then it was
firm and enduring.

The course which I took at the Commercial College in
cluded Commercial and Civil Law, Political Economy, and
Chemistry. I had therefore several posts to choose from on
leaving, but remembering the lesson of the Insurrection of
1863 . . . that any successful political movement must origi
nate among the working class ... I wanted to lose no time in
making contact with them. The best way to do this seemed to
be by becoming one of themselves, so I took a place as clerk in
the office of a leather goods firm.

The factory which turned out all manner of leather goods
from horses harness to valises and ladies reticules (as they
were called in those days) was situated on the outskirts of War
saw, so I and two other counting-house employees used to drive
to work every morning in an old-fashioned barouche drawn
by two horses. We used to set out soon after seven o clock in
order to be in our places by nine and when our day ended, at
five in the afternoon, we would find it waiting at the factory
doors to drive us home again. It was a thoughtful cour
tesy wliich we owed to the manager. He was an exceedingly

98 PILSUDSKI

considerate and liberal-minded man, very popular with his
work-people, whose conditions were much above the average
of that time. Viewed from present-day standards they were
appalling. Both men and women worked from 7 A.M. till 7 P.M.
for wages which ranged from the equivalent of $1.20 to
$3.00 a week. But they were at least allowed an hour for
dinner in the middle of the day, which was exceptional, for in
the majority of factories there was only a fifteen-minute break,
and the workers took their parcels of food which they ate
standing by their machines.

In the early years of this century the lot of the Polish peas
ant who had exchanged the meagre livelihood of his little hold
ing for the vague promise of the city was infinitely worse than
that of his forebears. The soil had at least given them health
and strength and a sufficiency pf air and food; the mills and
factories gave him none of these things. He lived in foul slums
which grew every year more overcrowded with his increas
ing family, for he came of the most prolific stock in Europe,
and died, generally before his time, of some disease born of
the dust of the cotton looms or the grime of the furnaces which
his country-bred ancestors had never known*

He had no unemployment relief and no health insurance.
If he lost his job he had to find another immediately or starve.
If he was taken ill he could only look to the charity of his
individual employer. No matter how bad the conditions under
which he worked might be, he was compelled to accept them
because, not having learnt the value of unity, he had no trade
union to fight for him and come to his aid if he went on strike.
Such small unrecognized associations as existed were without
funds, for there was no system of voluntary contributions
among the workers, and in consequence the strikes which broke
out from time to time were doomed to failure. Without any
sort of organization behind them they petered out almost as
soon as they had begun, and before news of them had pene
trated even to the neighbouring towns the strikers had been
forced by hunger to come to terms with their employers.

The insight into labour conditions which I gained from
my experience at the factory made me realize that any political
party which was to achieve practical results in the fight for

LOOKING BACK 99

Poland s freedom would have to include in its program not
only the issue of national independence, but also an extensive
scheme for social reform. It was some time before I succeeded
in finding one of this description. When I eventually did so it
was unexpectedly.

While I was studying at the Commercial College I formed
one of the happiest and most lasting friendships of my life
with a girl named Janka. As we left at the same time, she to
study music at the Conservatoire and I to go into business,
we took a small apartment at a pension de famille. Both of us
had a great many friends and it was crowded nearly every
evening with young people. The majority of them were stu
dents, or ex-students just starting in one or other of the profes
sions, poor perhaps where material possessions were concerned,
but rich in hope and enthusiasm. We used to make coffee or
tea and get out one of the hampers of country delicacies
which Aunt Maria, who could never be convinced that I
did not starve myself in Warsaw, sent me regularly. When
the last morsels of home-cured ham and apple cheese had dis
appeared we would embark on long and earnest discussions
lasting far into the night. Usually they were political in char
acter centring on the propaganda of the rival parties, and in
the course of one of them I first heard of the P.P.S.

The P.P.S., or Polish Socialist Party, had been founded in
Paris in 1892 by a small group of Polish exiles, among whom
were Yodko, Mendelssohn and Alexander Sulkiewicz. Its
program embraced all the main points of Socialism . . .
freedom and equal rights for all classes, and increased wage
standard, shorter hours and better conditions for workers,
and franchise for women. But in addition it was a patriot
party, pledged to fight above all else for the independence of
Poland.

This was the party which seemed to offer the practical plan
of campaign I had sought in vain, and as Janka s brother
belonged to it, I had no difficulty in gaining admission. Unlike
most secret organizations it had no oath of allegiance binding
its members till death, and any one who wished to leave it
was free to do so without reproach, on the simple understanding
nhat he, or she, would not betray the party. I was given work

IOO PILSUDSKI

to do almost immediately in the form of propaganda in the
suburb of Praga, which was then given over to the poorest of
Warsaw s poor, mill hands and factory workers who were
herded together in dark, airless slums. I used to go there every
Sunday afternoon and hold meetings for women and girls.
They were rough and uneducated, brutalized by the hardness
of their lives and the absence of any cultural influences, but in
them were the seeds of patriotism and a capacity for loyalty
for which I had cause to be grateful more than once. As time
went on my activities began to attract the attention of the
Russian Government spies, so that it became increasingly diffi
cult to find a place for our meetings.

One Saturday evening I came home from my work at the
leather factory to find a rough-looking man in workman s
clothes waiting at the door of our apartment. I tried to appear as
unconcerned as possible when he stepped out of the shadows
and intercepted me, though I felt sure he was a Russian agent,
To my relief, however, he introduced himself as the father of
one of the girls who attended my meetings and explained that
he had come to warn me. He was a railway employee at Praga,
and on the previous Sunday he had noticed that when I left the
train two men waiting at the station had followed me at a
distance. Later in the day when I had taken the return train
to Warsaw they had been on the platform and one of them had
got into conversation with him, and questioned him about my
movements. He had replied that he had never seen me in Praga
before, and they had appeared satisfied, but he was convinced
that they were Russian police officers and intended to arrest
me. He had walked all the way into Warsaw to advise me not
to hold my meeting next day.

I was touched at his loyalty and took his advice. Later I
was very glad that I had done so, for I heard that the police
had in fact searched the house where I was to have held my
meeting, and had also kept watch at the station all day. From
that time onwards I knew I had been marked on the Russian
Black List as an agitator.

In those early years of the twentieth century the spirit
of political endeavour began to stir again in Poland. The tor
por which had lain over the stricken and exhausted country

LOOKING BACK IOI

since the terrible retribution of the Insurrection had worn off,
for as Joseph Pilsudski wrote: . . . "grass grows on tombs,
new life rises from ashes and seeks sun and liberty. And Poland,
too, which was one vast tomb, grew green again; a new life,
a new movement arose, opening a new epoch."

Borne on the wings of that fresh impetus, the P.P.S. had
become in the year 1904, when I joined it, the strongest political
organization in Poland, with a membership which even then
numbered several thousand, and which was increasing from
month to month. All over the country stretched a network
of local branches linked together by the Central Committee.
Establishing communication between these was a lengthy and
difficult process because, to avoid running the risk of letters,
telegrams and telephone, it could only be done by conspiracy
and word of mouth. Consequently those of us working in
one centre, even in Warsaw, which was the largest and most
important, saw little of the other members of the party. Not
until after I had belonged to it for some years did I come into
personal contact with the leaders, though I constantly heard
of one of them, Joseph Pilsudski. When I joined the P.P.S.
he had just returned from a mission to Japan which, although
it had resulted in no material gain, had enormously increased
the prestige of the party, since it was the first time since the
loss of her independence that Poland had been accorded dip
lomatic status by one of the great foreign powers.

The outbreak of the Russo-Japanese War in February 1904
had been followed by wide repercussions in Poland. The pros
pects of thousands of Poles being mobilized and sent off to
Manchuria to fight Russia s battles caused a fresh wave of
resentment to sweep over the country, but the retribution of
63 was still green in the memory of the people. They sub
mitted in silence to this new injustice.

Pilsudski, who could endure defeat but never submission,
urged the P.P.S. to take action whether the time was ripe or
not. He could not sit still in inertia while the flower of Poland s
youth was offered up in sacrifice to Imperial aggrandizement.
Better lead them to resist, even to die in resisting Russian
tyranny as their fathers had done, than let them be slaughtered
unwillingly in a war which was not their own! Burning with

I0 2 PILSUDSKI

enthusiasm, he laid his plans before the Central Committee,
strove to rally them to his point of view.

Their lack of response was a bitter disappointment. While
some of the younger members of the party, fired by his exam
ple, stood behind him, the majority were cautious and apathetic.
Some even maintained that a war between two bourgeois pow
ers did not concern a proletariat organization.

But his was not the temperament to yield to discouragement
and he had still another card to play.

The astute Japanese Government, realizing that the political
situation in Poland could be turned to good account in dealing
with Russia, had invited him to go to Tokio for a consultation.
Accompanied by Tytus Filipowicz (who later became Polish
Ambassador to the United States), he sailed in the month of
May 1904.

"The precise object of the consultation was not stated,"
he wrote in describing his mission, "and I could have sent
others, but I decided to go in person, because I realized that
the conversation would hinge on the communication of in
formation of a military nature to Japan, and I did not wish
to entrust so delicate a matter to any one else. Japan would
defray the cost of the journey.

"The crossing of two oceans and the continent of America
from end to end lasted more than a month, and therefore I
had time to reflect on the line of conduct which I intended
to pursue in Japan. I decided in the first place that I would
consent to organize an intelligence service only if Japan
would give me technical aid in the form of arms and muni-
tions. I was convinced that a war sustained in Russia could
not continue without leaving its mark upon the Russian
state, and that therefore we Poles, by resorting to force,
could effect an improvement in the lot of Poland.

The Minister for Foreign Affairs received him cordially in
Tokio. In the course of their interview, Pilsudski presented
a memorandum which he had drawn up showing the ethnical
composition of the Russian Empire. Only 75 per cent of its
people were Russians; the rest had been annexed by conquest
Poles, Lithuanians, Estonians and Caucasians. He repre-

LOOKING BACK 103

sented that of these Poland was the most capable of carrying
matters to the length of open war with Russia, and that in that
event she would bring in with her the other conquered nations.
The question of Polish independence was therefore of the
utmost significance to Japan. The Japanese Minister was fa
vourably impressed with the plan, but the success of the
mission was frustrated by Roman Dmowski who, as leader of
the National Democrats, was already in Tokio with a rival
memorandum, in which he stated that any insurrection in
Poland could only be prejudicial to Japan s cause. Neither man
was aware of the other s presence in the city until they met face
to face in the street. They saluted one another casually, but
from that moment it was a battle of diplomacy between them.
Dmowski won.

"Nothing practical resulted from my interview in Tokio,"
wrote Pilsu dski. . . . "All that I could obtain was the
promise that Polish prisoners of war, many of whom had
voluntarily surrendered themselves sooner than fight for
Russia, should be united in one group and that one of the
men of our party should be at the disposal of the Japanese
General Staff to act as intermediary on behalf of these
Polish prisoners. . . ."

That was the first clash of swords between Joseph Pilsudski
and Roman Dmowski. Thereafter they were often to find
themselves opponents. And more than once the fate of Poland
was to hang in the balance while they struggled.

Meanwhile, in the summer of 1904 the first mobilization of
Polish troops for the Manchurian campaign began. As in 1863
young men were torn from their families and packed off to Rus
sian barracks to be hurriedly entrained as cannon-fodder. . . .

"But there was no question of our replying to it as our
fathers had done in 63" . . . wrote Pilsudski. . . . "We
were too weak and too ignorant for that. I knew that in
spite of the reservists hatred of the thought that they were
to die for Russia against their own feelings, they would
obey the order of the state. Like so many cattle led to the
slaughter they would entrain and travel to the end of the

104 PILSUDSKI

world in order to die, to sicken, and to suffer, and sacrifice
body and soul on behalf of their enemy. They would do
all that without a protest, without uttering a word. I could
almost have died of despair. ..."

He was back in Poland now, consumed with a bitterness
and resentment that would not let him rest. He rallied the
Central Committee, urged them with renewed insistence to
take action while there was still time, travelled openly and un
der his own name to sound all the branches of the P.P.S., al
though the St. Petersburg police had issued his photograph to
every gendarmerie station with orders that he was to be ar
rested on the grounds of preparing a Polish rising.

In the end he had his way. The party agreed to let him
organize a public manifestation against the Russian call-up of
Poles for the war in the Far East. It was decided to hold it at
the Plac Grzybowski in Warsaw on Sunday, November i3th,
1904.

The Warsaw branch of the P.P.S. naturally took the prin
cipal part in the preparations. Word was sent out to all branches
of the party notifying them of the demonstration, and asking
them to send representatives.

The manifestation was to take place outside the Church of
the Holy Spirit in the Plac Grzybowski immediately after Mass.
Hundreds of members of the P.P.S M students, working men
and peasants from the country districts would assemble in the
square during the morning, and at noon a procession which had
formed in the Ulrica Bagno would march to the church doors
singing the forbidden patriotic songs and carrying banners on
which were printed the words . . . "We Will Not Be the
Czar s Soldiers" . . . and "We Will Fight for Poland Alone."
A small detachment of cool-headed men in the front ranks were
to be armed with revolvers, but they were on no account to
use them unless the Russian police first opened fire on the
procession.

I and three other girls chosen to take part in the manifesta
tion had been given instructions to attend the Mass but to
remain in our seats afterwards instead of leaving with the rest
of the congregation. I shall never forget the suspense of

LOOKING BACK

waiting there, watching the hands of my watch creeping slowly
round to twelve, wondering what was happening outside and
what we would be called upon to do. I tried to follow the
Mass, but my thoughts kept going astray.

At length the Benediction was pronounced and people began
to stream out of the church, but I remained kneeling in the
pew as I had been told to do. Looking round cautiously, I
could see the other girls still in their places, although we were
separated from one another. The church was emptying rapidly
now; the tall candles above the altar were being extinguished
one by one. Suddenly I heard shouts from the square and a
great many voices singing "Czervony Sztandar" and "La Var-
sovienne" the songs that had echoed through the Revolution
of 1830. The march had begun.

Almost immediately a volley of shots rang out, followed by
the sound of horses clattering across the square as Russian
lancers who had been hiding in courtyards rode out and charged
the procession. People came running back into the church for
shelter. A confused babel of voices arose round me. Then the
great doors of the church clanged shut, and looking over my
shoulder I saw police standing on guard before them.

Presently I heard hurried steps approaching my pew and a
young man dropped on his knees beside me. I saw that he was
a young doctor, one of the members of the P.P.S. He laid two
revolvers on the seat, whispered "Hide them quickly," and was
gone before I had time to reply.

I remained quite still with my head bowed in my hands,
apparently in an attitude of devotion, but in reality wondering
what to do. Looking out of the corner of my eyes I could see
police subjecting every one to a thorough search before they
allowed them to leave the church. No hope, then, of taking
the revolvers out concealed on my person. I must either man
age to leave them in the church or else be found in possession
of them. Which would mean Siberia.

Luckily for me, in the pew just at my feet was an old-
fashioned footstool, a heavy, cumbrous thing of mahogany with
carved legs and a padded top, probably belonging to some old
lady. The space beneath it would make an ideal hiding-place.
Under cover of the folds of my skirt, which was a full one, I

106 PILSUDSKI

managed to take up the revolvers and slip them into it without
being perceived. Then I got up and mingled with the people
filing out of the church.

As I had expected, I was searched, but as nothing of an
incriminating nature was found on me I was allowed to leave
immediately.

The Plac Grzybowski was almost empty now except for the
dead and wounded lying in the roadway. Mechanically I
turned down the first street. A few feet away from me a
mounted policeman was firing apparently at random. A bullet
whizzed just over my head and a man dropped on the opposite
sidewalk.

A mist swam before my eyes and for a few moments I was
so dizzy that I could only stand still clutching on to some rail
ings for support. Then my head cleared and I was able to go
home. Later in the day I returned to the church and success
fully retrieved the hidden revolvers.

The manifestation of Grzybowski, tragically as it ended,
achieved its purpose. It had a far wider influence than any one
realized at the time, for the Russian Government seeing in it
the first public demonstration by a revolutionary party in
Poland since the Insurrection of 1863, and uncertain of how
far the unrest had spread, grew alarmed. Already involved in
an unsatisfactory war in the Far East, they had no wish to take
upon themselves the added strain of a revolution at their own
gates. So by an immediate and drastic change of plans they
reduced mobilization in Poland to a minimum.

PART THREE

*
THAT CERTAIN P1LSUDSKI

CHAPTER IX

THE WINTER of 1904-1905 was a hard one in Russia. In towns
and villages the poor died by hundreds from cold and starva
tion. The peasants huddled together in their huts at night and
talked of what was to be done in a future that was as grey
as the leaden December skies. And of their talk was born
the conviction that one man could save them if only he knew
of their plight. Their Little Father. They decided to send a
deputation to him.

So on January 2 2nd, 1 905, a procession of peasants and work
men led by the priest, Father Gapon, marched through the
streets of St. Petersburg to the Winter Palace to lay their griev
ances before the Czar. It was an unarmed procession, peaceful
and loyal in its intentions, but it never reached the Palace, for
the way was barred by troops who fired volley after volley into
its ranks until they dispersed in confusion, leaving their dead
behind them.

The storm of indignation aroused by that needless and cruel
massacre reached its climax in the Revolution which swept
through Russia. Riots broke out in all the principal cities,
thousands of workers, half-starved and underpaid, went on
strike. The Government dealt with them after its usual ruth
less fashion, shot the ringleaders and imprisoned the rest. But
even so the revolt gathered strength. It spread into Russian
Poland and there it changed character, took on a patriotic as
well as an economic motive. Even the school-children joined
in it. Over 100,000 of them went on strike as a protest against
the prohibition of the Polish language. The Government or
dered that an example should be made of them, so some were
flogged with the utmost brutality while others were expelled
from their schools, and thereby barred from every profession.

The children s brief effort was quenched in tears and suf
fering, but the revolt itself was not so easily suppressed. In
stead, it gained a new impetus, extended to the furthermost

109

IIO PILSUDSKI

corners of Poland under Russian rule. Every industry was
affected. There were daily battles between strikers and police.
In Warsaw the Government proclaimed a state of siege,
mounted troops were ordered to charge any crowd of more
than five persons which assembled in the streets, but they
could not be in all quarters of the city at once. Agitators from
every political party stood on chairs and harangued the work
men in the dinner hour, there would be as many as five or six
separate groups in one street, each preaching a diff erent pro
gram. Then there would be warning shouts and the Russian
lancers would sweep down upon them all impartially, striking
out to right and left, so that presently the street would be
empty enough except for inanimate bundles stretched out on
the stones.

The jails were full to overflowing with political prisoners,
the majority of whom were arrested merely on suspicion of
belonging to one or other of the different parties, and might
be induced after weeks of solitary confinement to reveal
the secrets of their organization. The police had their own
methods of extorting such "confessions." The application of
red-hot irons to the soles of the feet was considered to be one
of the most successful; boiling wax poured under the finger
nails was another. If these failed there still remained the
knout.

One evening I went to the house of a student in Warsaw,
a member of the P.P.S., who had a little printing press. I
was to call for some cards which he had printed on it to notify
the local branches of our next manifestation* On my arrival
I found him very much agitated because only that morning
two of his friends had had a visit from the police who had
insisted on searching their rooms, though fortunately with
out result, for all their correspondence had been carefully
hidden. He was anxious for me to take away the cards though
he feared I might be stopped and searched on leaving the
house,

I hid the parcel in the front of my dress and hurried home
wards, choosing unfrequented side roads in order to escape
observation. For once I was grateful for the fact that since
the Revolution there had been no lights in the city except

THAT CERTAIN PILSXJDSKI III

from the braziers set up at the corners of the streets where
soldiers and police were posted.

I was nearing the pension where I lived when I heard sounds
that made me stand still in horror. The street, which was
almost deserted at that hour, was lighted only by the stars so
that I could not see more than a few yards ahead, but horses
were coming towards me at a walking pace. The ring of hoofs
upon the cobbles was punctuated with the sharp crack of
whips, followed by a low, sobbing, incoherent cry.

I shrank back into the doorway of a church, longing to
escape, yet rooted to the spot by sheer terror of what I was
going to see. A moment later two mounted Russian police
came into view. Between their horses a man stumbled along
blindly, plunging forward and falling heavily to the ground,
only to be jerked to his feet again by the chains that bound
him to each saddle. A man whose hands were pinioned behind
him and whose shirt was torn to ribbons by the long nahajakas
which the two policemen were wielding with rhythmic reg
ularity. Every time the leather thongs cut through the air to
flay the shrinking shoulders that despairing cry echoed in the
stillness of the street.

As they drew level with me the horses slowed down a
little. The man walking between them raised his head and I
saw his eyes rest for a moment on the statue of Christ in the
entrance of the church. His lips moved in supplication. Then
the cavalcade passed on into the darkness. The cries died away
in silence.

As month after month went by and the revolution showed
no signs of abating, the Government grew alarmed and intro
duced still sterner measures. But one strike was no sooner
suppressed than another broke out. In every part of the Rus
sian Empire there were scenes of bloodshed and violence
as men sought reprisals for the accumulated wrongs of cen
turies, and bombs and bullets took the place of speech that
had been denied. In Russia the downtrodden proletariat had
shaken off its docility and, like a slow and patient beast
goaded beyond endurance, turned on its masters. In Poland,
where the cause of the oppressed workers had become identi
fied with the cause of the oppressed nation, the struggle gained

112 PILSUDSKI

new impetus. Every political party increased its sphere. The
P.P.S. with an added membership of tens of thousands became
a force to be reckoned with, a definite influence in the life of the
nation, since it was the only party which was both Nationalist
and Socialist. Many of the most important strikes and manifes
tations of 1905 and 1906 were organized by it, notably the
General Strike of January 1905. All over the country its mem
bers took part in fights with the police and military in which
many lives were lost on both sides. In those days of storm the
militant organization of the party, the "Bojowka" (Associa
tion of Secret Conspiracy and Combat) came into being.

In its beginning it was merely an irregular armed group
created for the purpose of carrying on guerilla warfare against
Russian authorities. There was no thought of a disciplined
force or of any sort of military technique and training behind
it ...

"To most Socialists it appeared ridiculous to speak of
artillery and rifles" . . . wrote Joseph Pilsudski in describ
ing those early days. . . . "Any one thinking of an armed
rising was laughed at as a romantic and a relic of the
insurrectionary traditions. The men were not even used
to assembling at a given time and place, so that to manoeuvre
them was impossible. Another mark of the organization
was the lack of trained leaders, which made it a house
built on sand. Its first militants were chosen from the
district and factory organizations. They were entirely
at the disposal of the party. Their weapons were sticks,
their duty to collect at a certain point and carry out lit
tle manifestations. At a given signal a small group of them
would run out into the street, unfurl a red flag, and dis
perse before the police could come up. But these little
manifestations helped the party to gain control of the street
crowds. Events developed. The first shots were fired dur
ing the manifestation in the Plac Grzybowski, and after
that revolutionary methods were introduced into the P.P.S.
tactics. . . ."

The Central Committee of the party, which controlled this
militant branch, was at that time divided among itself over die

THAT CERTAIN PILSTJDSKI 113

question of its policy. The great masses of the people, who
were beginning to look to it for leadership, were in favour of a
campaign of widespread demonstrations and incessant agitation
against the Russian Government, a point of view which was
shared by the majority of the Committee.

The opposition was led by Joseph Pilsudski, who was against
any course of action likely to end in violence and clashes with
the Russian authorities. He disapproved of terrorism in theory,
and in practice, since he considered it of no use in achieving
any definite results and calculated only to cause unnecessary
suffering to individuals. The bombing of Government build
ings and attempts on the lives of Russian officials, however
great the provocation, were abhorrent to him, and he stead
fastly maintained the view that the party ought to wait until
such time as it should be strong enough, both in arms and in
men, to take the field and challenge the Russian forces in open
warfare. . . . "Let us fight by all means" . . . he urged . . .
"but fight as soldiers in the open, not from the corner. . . ."

He was opposed therefore on principle to demonstrations
and public manifestations since they invariably led to blood
shed and retaliations on both sides. The Bojowka, while it
was more than capable of dealing with the armed Russian
gendarmerie, was no match for regular troops and it was
intolerable to him that lives should be wasted in futile skir
mishes with the police.

In later years when he was the leader of the Polish Army
instead of a small guerilla troop he had this same regard for
the lives of his men. He would never risk even a single company
without justification.

All through the year of 1905 therefore he held himself
aloof from the party s campaign of terrorism and criticized
it so steadfastly that he reached an open breach with the
Central Committee which resulted in his withdrawing to Ga-
licia. And because he was a man who throughout his life
aroused the hot or the cold, but never the lukewarm in people,
the party was rent with discussion. While some of the members
of the Central Committee attacked him bitterly he had a tre
mendous following among the rank and file. The entire youth
of the party stood solidly behind him.

114 PILSUDSKI

The amnesty which was declared by Russia in the autumn
of 1905 seemed to promise some amelioration in the conditions
of Poland. It accorded a certain measure of liberty to the
press and freedom of speech. The use of the Polish language
was restored to schools (the poor children had at least achieved
that by their strike) .

But the declaration of the amnesty was marred by one of
those pointless and apparently motiveless acts which have al
ways characterized Russian policy.

In celebration of the amnesty a crowd, largely composed
of students and young people, walked in procession through
the streets of Warsaw, singing patriotic songs and waving
flags. It was not an organized procession and had no political
significance, just a spontaneous assembly of light-hearted peo
ple, rejoicing over the satisfactory end to months of strikes
and disputes. But when they arrived at the Place de Theatre
they found it filled with police who fired upon them without
warning, killing many of those in the front ranks.

There were casual apologies from the Government after
wards, and vague explanations laying the blame on first one
official and then another, but the fact remained that whatever
improvement had been effected in the relations between Poland
and Russia was undone. With the passing of time, too, it be
came only too obvious that many of the promised concessions
would never materialize.

Towards the close of 1905 the Bojowka had practically
ceased to exist, for nearly all its members, with the exception
of Pilsudski, who was still in Galicia, had been sentenced to
varying terms of imprisonment. The Central Committee ap
pealed to him to take over the Militant Organization of the
party. He agreed to do so provided they would let him run
it on his own lines.

It was the opportunity he had always wanted* He would
create a trained and disciplined armed force capable of offering
effective resistance to Russia s troops.

At his suggestion a uniform method of training was estab
lished to be used throughout the organization, and regular
military schools were instituted in Galicia where selected
recruits from all parts of Poland were taught tactics and

THAT CERTAIN PILSUDSKI 115

prepared for guerilla warfare. Not until they had passed an
examination corresponding to those of the recognized military
colleges could they be admitted to the ranks of the Bojowka.
Those who graduated successfully were appointed officers and
sent through Russian Poland to form provincial groups com
posed of men of the working classes whom they drilled and
trained in the use of arms. At first no group, even in the big
industrial cities, contained more than five members, but so
great was the demand that before long each group began to
organize in its turn sub-groups until the association numbered
several hundred men.

It was an ambitious undertaking, this transformation of a rev
olutionary band into an efficient and disciplined military force,
for the entire training and organization could only be carried
on in the utmost secrecy. The recruits had to assemble under
the most difficult conditions; drilling took place in warehouses
after closing hours, revolver practice was held in deserted
woods and country lanes. But the venture succeeded almost
beyond belief. . . . "In spite of the inexperience from which
even the leaders suffered" . . . wrote Joseph Pilsudski in de
scribing those early struggles . . . "in one respect a miracle
was achieved, for the men acquired an extraordinary discipline,
capacity to obey orders, self-control and resolution." . . .

Out of the ranks of that first Bojowka emerged men who
were to rise to fame in the future Polish State . . . Walery
Slaweck, and Colonel Prystor, both of whom held office as
Prime Minister, and General Sosnkowski, Chief of Staff of the
First Brigade of the Legions and subsequently Polish Minister
of War.

As the numbers of the Militant Organization increased from
scattered units to hundreds of men, dispersed over the greater
part of Russian Poland, the provision of arms and ammuni
tion became a vital necessity. The P.P.S. was well supplied
with funds by its members and sympathizers, who included
a number of landowners and well-to-do young men. The
difficulty therefore was not unsurmountable. Quantities of
Mausers and revolvers were purchased in Belgium and smug
gled into the country, knives were imported from Finland
and bombs and cartridges were filled at secret laboratories

Il6 PILSUDSKI

which were opened in Warsaw and other cities. The work of
transporting these arms from the frontier and to the different
depots and distributing them to the provincial centres was
carried out by men and women specially chosen from among
the members of the party. At first it was only a question of
hiding a few Brownings, but as it grew in proportion to the
growth of the military force which it had to equip it involved
before long the organization of a whole chain of secret arsenals
and magazines.

I was given charge of the central arms depot in Warsaw
which controlled all the provincial distribution centres, and
thousands of rifles and revolvers and tons of ammunition
passed through my hands in the course of a year. I was re
sponsible not only for storing and issuing them to the differ
ent branches of the Bojowka, but also for arranging for their
transport and collecting them at the final clearing house. I
had of course a number of helpers, both men and women,
who assisted in the actual conveying of the arms, but I alone
knew the full route of each consignment and the identities of
the different people who acted as links in the chain.

In May 1906 Joseph Rlsudski, who was visiting every
branch of the Bojowka and selecting recruits for the training
school in Cracow, came to inspect my depot. I remember
that when I was told to expect him I felt some curiosity to
see this man whose name was fast becoming a legend in Poland.

In looking back on that first meeting I realize that for a
long time my impressions were always of the leader, never of
the man himself. That I should love him one day never even
occurred to me. We were completely impersonal, two people
working side by side for the same cause.

Yet my picture of him on that spring afternoon as we
stood surrounded by stacks of rifles and boxes of cartridges is
as vivid still as it was thirty-four years ago. I remember that
my first thought of him was that here was a man whom
Siberia had failed to break. It had not set its seal upon him
either mentally or physically, as it had upon all the other
returned exiles I had met. There was neither bitterness nor
resignation in his face. Then I became conscious of the tremen
dous force of his personality, of that indefinable magnetism

THAT CERTAIN PILSUDSKI llj

which enabled him, all through his life, to sway the minds of
men, even against their will.

I had somehow expected him to be a big man, powerfully
built. I was surprised to find he was of medium height only
with broad shoulders, a slender waist and a step as light as a
girl s. He had a feline grace of movement which he retained
even in old age. He glided over the ground with an easy
buoyancy so tireless that he could outmarch men far more
robust than himself. For the rest I saw he had a small head
with ears that were slightly pointed and very sensitive, grey-
blue eyes, deep-set and penetrating, and a face so mobile that
it reflected every passing thought.

But in that first impression of him I noticed more than
any other characteristic the curious contrast between his right
and left hands. The left was fine and narrow, with delicate,
tapering fingers, like a woman s, useless and nervous. The hand
of an artist and a dreamer. The right was so much larger that
it might have belonged to another man, forceful and brutal,
with broad, square-tipped fingers so strong that he was able
to bend a horseshoe easily in them. The hand of a soldier and
a man of action.

In later years I used to think that nothing could have bet
ter expressed Joseph Pilsudski than those contradictory hands,
for I believe few men have combined so many opposing qual
ities. He was a soldier and a realist, far-sighted, essentially
practical, ruthless when the occasion demanded. He was a
dreamer and an idealist, a lover of poetry and of beauty in
every form, sensitive, impressionable to the point of sentimen
tality where his affections were concerned, too generous in
his judgment of those whom he trusted.

That first meeting left me with only a fleeting impression
of that restless, dynamic personality, for our few minutes
conversation was confined to counting Mausers and Brownings,
but before two months had passed I was to see much more
of him.

In July 1906 the Bojowka summoned representatives from
every branch of the party to a Congress in Cracow. Joseph
Pilsudski attended it both in the capacity of leader of the
Bojowka and as one of the delegates from Galicia, and as I

Il8 PILSUDSKI

had been chosen to act as secretary to the Congress we were
constantly working together.

Under the friendlier, more tolerant rule of Austria political
enterprise of every description flourished in Cracow and a
number of diff erent parties managed to carry on their activities
there with very little hindrance from authorities. For this
reason it had been chosen as the headquarters of the Bojowka,
and also as the most convenient refuge for any members of
the party who were in flight from the Russian authorities.

It was my first visit to Cracow, once the Polish capital,
the loveliest and most venerable of our cities. So much that
has been lost to us lives still in Cracow, enshrined in memories
of the past. It seems to hold the very spirit of Poland, un
changeable, unconquerable. It has known war, fire and tem
pest, but they have not disturbed its serenity. It is too old,
too rich in wisdom for that. The swastika may float to
day over its ancient castle, steel-helmeted Nazis may patrol
its winding streets lined with stately houses washed in soft
greens^and greys, bleached by the rains and sunshine of
centuries, but they will leave no lasting trace on its calm face.
It has seen other conquferors come and go and outlived them
all.

I can still recall the happiness of discovering for myself the
gracious, mellow charm of the city. I wandered about the
market-place which had housed the great trade guilds of the
Middle Ages, and whose pillared arcades had sheltered from
sun and wind the first merchant princes come from the rich
towns beyond the Danube to barter their wares for good
Polish cloth. I walked up the hill to the Wawel Castle, that
gem of Italian architecture set on the misty banks of the
Vistula to console a queen of Poland who had been born a
Sf orza and longed for the warm lands of her youth, and stood
on the balcony remembering the story of that Christmas Eve
in the year 1683 when a watchman had strained his eyes over
the snow and run back with the joyful tidings that he had
seen a great company of men approaching across the plains:
King Sobieski s army coming home in triumph from the rout
of the Turks.

I spent an hour in the University which had been built by

THAT CERTAIN PILSUDSKI Up

King Casimir in the fourteenth century when the Academy of
Prague was the only stronghold of learning in Central Europe.
Tradition says the King founded it at the earnest entreaty of
his daughter, the beautiful Jadwige who even sold her jewels to
contribute to its cost. If that is true the professors and stu
dents were sadly ungrateful more than a century afterwards,
for when they discovered the presence among them of a young
girl who, in her determination to share the privileges of learning
denied to her sex, had disguised herself as a man and attended
the lectures with the other students, they were at first disposed
to burn her at the stake. However, when it was proved that
she had conducted herself "modestly and discreetly and had
caused no harm or annoyance to any of her fellows" she was
allowed to live, but for her presumption was immured in a
convent for the rest of her days. I thought of her sad fate
(from which Aunt Maria would surely have drawn a moral)
when I walked through the shady cloisters of the University,
famous for its associations with the two great astronomers of
the Middle Ages, Wojereck Brudzswa and his pupil Coperni
cus. The pavements of the courtyard have been worn thin by
the feet of generations of scholars, and I pictured Copernicus
pacing up and down them, pondering over the pages of Aris
totle, which he had been studying, getting, perhaps, as he
watched the slowly deepening twilight, the first inspiration for
his theory of the daily rotation of the earth round the sun.

I got up early in the morning because that was the only
means of finding time to visit the lovely old Gothic cathedral,
the last resting-place of Poland s kings and heroes. I was re
warded for sacrificing my sleep by hearing the silvery notes
of a trumpet ringing out clearly in the silence of the slumbering
city the "Heynal," which is still sounded from the Marjacla
Tower, after seven hundred years, in memory of the brave
trumpeter who warned the city of the advancing Tartar
hordes.

We were unable to remain in Cracow longer than a day or
two, because it was obvious from the beginning that our con
gress was an object of suspicion to the authorities. Word had
evidently been passed along the chain of secret service agents
operating in Russian and Austrian Poland. Within the first

120 PILSUDSKI

few hours we became aware that we were being spied on. So
we decided to move to Zakopane. There, in the heart of the
mountains, we would be safe.

I travelled up from Cracow in the same carriage as Joseph
Pilsudski. It was the first time I had spoken with him since our
meeting in Warsaw, and before the end of the journey I revised
some of my impressions of him. To begin with, I saw that he
was younger than I had supposed, certainly not more than
thirty-nine or forty, though his beard and moustache and the
deep lines etched round his eyes made him appear older. When
he laughed, which he did often, it was the laugh of a young
man. He was a much gayer and more amusing companion than
I had expected. There was nothing of the fanatic or zealot
about him. His conversation was not, like that of most of the
other leaders, centred on the party and on politics in general to
the exclusion of all else. He talked lightly and easily, showing
a keen sense of humour and knowledge of the world.

As we approached Zakopane I was enchanted with the
glimpse of high peaks sprinkled with little lakes and fringed
with lush green valleys. But he told me that the scenery of
Siberia was much finer. "I never even imagined such beauty
until I went there," he said, and gave me a vivid picture of
white-capped_mountains towering over immense tracts of plain
crossed by mighty rivers like oceans, where the ice broke in
spring with the roar of cannon. And of the loneliness of dark
silent forests, inhabited only by wolf and bear, and where no
shaft of sunshine ever penetrated the dense growth of the trees.
As he talked his face lit up with enthusiasm, and I remember
thinking that although I had heard many men speak of the
miseries of Siberia, this was the only one who had ever told me
of its beauty.

Later that evening I heard him give an address to the dele
gates, and then I looked at him and marvelled because he was
a different man from the one who had travelled in the train
with me. In his speech he quoted several verses from one of
the patriotic poems of Slowacki, and I thought that surely they
could never have been spoken more beautifully or with such
depth of feeling. I knew then as I listened that whatever
might be the virtues or faults of this Joseph Pilsudski of whom

THAT CERTAIN PILSUDSKI 121

I had heard so many conflicting opinions, his whole heart was
given to Poland.

The Congress had been summoned with the main purpose of
discussing the line of policy to be followed by the Bojowka in
view of the influence of the revolution on the Polish national
situation. A difference of opinion had already made itself felt
in the ranks of the party, which was gradually dividing into
Right and Left wings.

The Left was in favour of working in close harmony with
the Russian Socialists and therefore it was willing to substitute
for the claim of Polish independence one for autonomy, and to
carry on the struggle against the Russian Government on eco
nomic grounds alone.

Pilsudski, as the leader of the Right wing and a passionate
champion of complete independence for Poland, was in violent
opposition, not only over the question of policy but because
they wished to use the Bojowka to further it. Their argu
ment was that since the masses of the revolutionists desired
a campaign of agitation against the Russian authorities it was
the duty of the party, as a Socialist organization, to support
them with its armed force. Pilsudski retorted that the Militant
Group had been formed to serve as a framework for the ulti
mate aim of an armed revolution, and that since the party, at
that stage, could not possibly create a fighting organization
large enough to assimilate and discipline the masses, a pro
gram of indiscriminate terrorism with the Bojowka lending
itself to local demonstrations and carrying out their require-
ihents could achieve no good purpose. It could only lead to
reprisals from the Government which we should not be strong
enough to counter.

His views received the support of the entire Bojowka and
all the more moderate members of the party, but the Left wing
won the day. A few weeks later their victory bore bitter fruit
in the tragedy which caused August 6th of that year to be ever
afterwards known as "Bloody Wednesday." Against the ad
vice of Pilsudski, a section of the Bojowka, acting on the
orders of the Leftists in the Central Committee, organized a
series of risings in several towns in Russian Poland during which
eighty police officers lost their lives. The Russian authorities

122 PILSUDSKI

immediately retaliated with the terrible pogrom of Siedlce
on September 8th, which, despite the flimsy excuse that it was
an act of vengeance perpetrated by troops acting on their own
initiative, was undoubtedly inspired, if not actually ordered,
by the military command.

Pilsudski s misgivings had received ample justification. . . .
"It was a blow to which we could make no response" ... he
wrote of it. ... "A moral defeat followed by a material de
feat. It caused dismay in the whole party organization because
it was realized that with the help of the military the Govern
ment could organize such a massacre at any part of the coun
try. The Bojowka had not sufficient means to counteract it,
and the Government, aware of its weakness, set about liqui
dating the revolutionary movement. . . ."

"Bloody Wednesday" and its sequel brought to a head the
disputes within the party. The Left wing continued to urge
alliance with Russia until matters reached a deadlock. In No
vember 1906 a meeting was held at Lwow to take a decisive
vote on the future policy of the party. Pilsudski, in an impas
sioned speech, defended the ideal of national independence
which had been the principal motive of the P.P.S. since its
formation, but the majority were against him.

He rose to his feet very pale. . . .

"Over any other question I am ready to meet you . . ." he
said. . . . "But in this one matter there can be no compromise.
If you are resolved to abandon the fight for our freedom I will
not remain in the party." . . .

He walked out of the meeting, followed by a number of
others who shared his views.

The split in the party was definite and final. The Left wing
continued as the P.P.S. with its changed course of policy.
The Right, which included the entire organization of the
Bojowka, remained faithful to the original program of inde
pendence and vowed not to lay down their arms until it had
been achieved. And of this party, which became known as the
"Revolutionary Fraction," Joseph Pilsudski was unanimously
elected leader.

I, too, remained with the Bojowka.

CHAPTER X

THE IMPORT of arms for the Bojowka, which had begun as
the thin trickle of a few Brownings brought into the country
at irregular intervals and with great difficulty, developed to
such an extent that in the spring of 1906 I was receiving
consignments nearly every day, and distributing thousands of
arms not only to Warsaw but to the provincial centres of the
Militant Organization Radom, Lublin, Kielce, and many oth
ers. It was no small task to arrange all the details of transport
and distribution, and finally I decided to give up my work in
the office of the leather goods factory in order to devote more
time to it.

As it was still necessary for me to earn my own living, I
took a few pupils for private lessons in languages, science and
mathematics. They were all daughters of rich families in War
saw, and sometimes I used to laugh at the curious contrast of
the two roles I played, and think how surprised they would
have been to hear that the conventional young governess who
corrected their French translations and set them problems in
algebra was a revolutionary, who addressed secret meetings in
the poorest quarters of the city, smuggled guns and ammunition
and fled at the approach of the police.

The transport of arms was organized as a network to cover
the greater part of Russian Poland, and hundreds of people
acted as intermediaries and messengers, people drawn from all
walks in life, from landowners to peasants, from working men
to intellectuals, students, doctors, and professional men and
women.

The Mausers and Brownings which formed the bulk of the
consignments were bought in Belgium by men belonging to the
party, and transported across Germany and into Austrian
Poland as far as Cracow or Sosnowiec by various representatives
and agents. There they were collected and brought across the
Austro-Russian frontier, generally by workmen or railway

124 PILSUDSKI

employees, some of whom were members of the party, while
others were professional smugglers. This last was a simple mat
ter of arrangement, for many of the inhabitants of the frontier
districts took part in some form of smuggling. Once they were
"over the line," as it was called, the arms would be stored in
some house in the locality owned by a member of the party. A
message would then be sent to me either by word of mouth
or by a secret code, since it would have been too dangerous
to trust such information to writing, and I would send one
of my helpers for them. He (or more often she) would take
them to still another hiding-place, this time much nearer to
Warsaw, and there I would collect them and take them to
one of my depots to be stored until they were needed for dis
tribution. I had several of these secret arsenals in different
parts of Warsaw and the suburbs; in some of them I would
leave only twenty Brownings and a few boxes of cartridges;
in others two hundred or more rifles. I kept all my records
and inventories and the addresses of consignees in books
worded in code, so that in the event of the police discovering
one depot they would not be able to link up the chain. For
the same reason no one but myself and one other member of
the party was ever allowed to know the final destination of
each consignment or the identity of those responsible for its
transport. In that way there was less chance of betrayal, either
unconsciously through some stupid slip or in a "confession"
after Russian "third degree" methods had been successfully
applied. The penalties were too heavy . . , from four to ten
years solitary confinement in the Katorga followed by exile to
Siberia for life ... to permit our taking unnecessary risks.

The chief difficulties were encountered in the actual trans
port of the arms, for whether they were brought by road or by
rail it involved running the gauntlet of a series of customs bar
riers and an army of officials.

The Imperial Russian system of frontier control was, I
believe, the most complicated and at the same time the most
inefficient in the world. It was divided into three lines, the
first of which was situated at the actual frontier which bristled
with the rifles and bayonets of soldiers, gendarmes and armed
troops of every description. No sooner had the traveller sue-

THAT CERTAIN PILSUDSKI I2J

cessfully negotiated the customs station there than he found
himself confronting the officials of the second line, which was
only a kilometre or two behind it.

This second line, or "line of cordons/ as it was known,
crossed every road leading from the frontier, and its principal
function was to send out horse patrols authorized to search at
their own discretion the baggage of any one passing along the
road. As the first and second fines operated quite independently
of one another one might be searched by both or by neither. It
was largely a question of luck.

The third frontier was an institution peculiar to Czardom.
It covered a zone of over a hundred kilometres inside Russian
Poland and consisted of an elaborate organization of customs
who operated at all the principal railway stations, on all trains
coming from the frontier, and on many others running between
the big provincial cities. They would walk through the com
partments when the train was in motion, selecting at random
passengers whom they would order to open their bags.

It required some ingenuity then to transport consignments
of two or three hundred Mausers and seventy or eighty pounds
of dynamite past these different controls, and it could be done
only by taking them in small quantities at a time, divided among
several people. As a rule we considered it too dangerous to trust
our contraband to bags or valises which were likely to be
searched either on the train or at one of the stations, and there
fore we carried it on our persons. Mausers were strapped down
our thighs so that we could conceal under our skirts two or
even three at a time; revolvers and cartridges were sewn into
wadded bands and worn round our waists; blocks of dynamite
were encased in wrappings and padded into our corsets. Luckily
the mode of those days favoured us. The long full skirts and
fashionable "pelerins" could hide a surprising amount, and we
grew so expert in manipulating them that we were able to
travel for hours in a train with a load of arms and ammunition
weighing up to forty pounds distributed over our persons
without any of our fellow-passengers even suspecting us. I
have often carried a thousand or twelve hundred Browning
cartridges at a time.

Dynamite was the most dangerous and the most uncom-

126 PILSUDSKI

fortable contraband to carry. In the first place, it necessi
tated being continually on the alert lest one of your fellow-
passengers should throw down a cigarette-end, when you would
have to make good your escape into the corridor. Neither
could you, if you were possessed of imagination, dismiss alto
gether from your mind the possibility of disaster caused by
the friction of a hook or safety pin, even a corset busk. With
every mile of your journey the tightly packed bricks that en
cased you like a vice of steel seemed to weigh heavier; the mus
cles you were afraid to stretch grew more cramped until you
felt that you could scarcely breathe. But nothing of your dis
comfort could show itself on your face, for only with a light
and confident step and a mien of careless indifference could you
hope to get past the customs men at the end of the journey.

This transport of arms, even though the Devil held the dice,
was not without its comedies.

I shall never forget one occasion when I went with one of
the members of the party to transfer a consignment of revolvers
and ammunition from a depot in the suburbs to one in Warsaw.
My companion was a very zealous lady of middle age and
weighing about 250 pounds. Because of her proportions
and the voluminous clothing she wore, it was easy for her to
conceal large quantities of contraband successfully, and there
fore she asked to be entrusted with the entire consignment of
dynamite which was in blocks weighing altogether over forty
pounds, while I took the revolvers. We draped our coats care
fully over our packages, and set off together.

We had not covered half the distance when as we crossed a
road my companion caught her heel on the curbstone and fell
in a sitting position. Fortunately, she was not hurt, but the
weight of the dynamite, added to her own very considerable
one, made it impossible for her to get up. I grasped her by
the arms and heaved and tugged until I nearly lost my own
footing, but try as I would I could not move her even an
inch.

We were both struggling desperately when to our dismay a
Russian officer came up and gallantly offered his assistance.
He, too, placed his hands beneath her arms and attempted to
lever her to her feet, but as he felt her weight an expression of

THAT CERTAIN PILSXJDSKI I2J

amazement spread over his face, and: after three or four valiant
eff orts he was obliged to let her sink back on to the ground
again. At that moment I looked round and saw a policeman
approaching from the opposite side of the road. The sight
spurred me to a fresh endeavour. . . .

"Let us both try together" ... I said to the officer, and
without waiting for an answer, grasped the prostrate lady firmly
by one arm. He took the other and this time between us we
succeeded in getting her upright. We parted with mutual
compliments, and I do not suppose that to this day he has ever
guessed that he was instrumental in the transport of arms for
Polish revolutionaries!

On another occasion I and another girl in the party named
Hanka had to take a large consignment of cartridges from the
principal arms depot in Warsaw to one of the Bojowka s pro
vincial branches. As usual, we decided to carry them on our
persons. I sewed about eight hundred into bands which I
wrapped round my waist and advised Hanka to do the same,
but she insisted on carrying them all in a special pair of knickers
which she had made after the fashion of Zouave trousers with
wide folds over the knees. I pointed out that she ran the risk
of having the ribbons break under the weight, but she assured
me that she had often carried them in this way before, and had
found it better than any other.

On our way to the station we went through the busy street
of the Marsalkowska. Ever since the outbreak of the revolu
tion it had been strongly patrolled by police and military. Po
licemen stood outside the station, surveying the passengers
entering and leaving it, from time to time picking out some
man or woman to be searched. Soldiers were posted af fre
quent intervals on the opposite pavement along which we were
walking.

We were nearly at the station when Hanka stopped sud
denly and gave a gasp of dismay. . . .

"The ribbon of my knickers has broken! "

Already a cartridge was lying at her feet. Even while we
stared at it in consternation another fell from beneath her
skirt and rolled to the very heels of the soldier who was stand
ing only a few feet away, mercifully with his back turned to us.

128 PILSUDSKI

Then another fell and still another, until presently she was
showering cartridges in all directions. They bounced off her
shoes and rolled into the gutter, to the amazement of the
passers-by.

The soldier, with true Russian military imperturbability,
had not yet turned, and probably nothing short of a bomb
would make him do so. He had been posted outwards and
facing outwards he would remain. But the policemen guard
ing the station on the other side of the street were already
showing interest in us. I saw two of them pointing in our direc
tion and summoning a couple of soldiers. Presently there would
be others. The very sight of a cartridge, to say nothing of doz
ens of cartridges, was enough to bring down a whole regiment
onus.

There was not a second to lose. I seized Hanka s arm, for

L go one way and I ll go

I hurried off towards the right, crossed the road a little
farther down, and went into a draper s shop, where I ordered
the first thing that came into my head. While the assistant was
getting it for me I stood by the window, screened by the array
of boxes and bales of material, and took survey of the position.
On the opposite side of the street I could see a crowd collecting,
and soldiers, of whom by this time there were several, picking
up cartridges from the gutter. But there was no sign of Hanka
and I could not tell whether she had made good her escape or
been arrested and taken away.

I waited in the shop as long as I could, asking to be shown
first one thing and then another, until the assistant must have
thought me the most inconsiderate customer he had ever had
to deal with, and then, as the street was quiet again, I decided
to go to a lady doctor who had a nursing home not far away,
and who was in secret a member of the party. It was obvi
ously out of the question to attempt to continue the journey
and deliver over my share of the cartridges, since every one
entering the railway station would now be searched. On the
other hand, I could not return home without news of poor
Hanka, whom I pictured as already being interrogated by the

THAT CERTAIN PILSUDSKI

police, and as it would be unsafe for me to make inquiries I must
get some one else to do so.

The lady doctor, on hearing what had happened, immedi
ately telephoned to a friend who went round to the flat which
Hanka shared with her sister. After what seemed an intermi
nable time, she came back with the welcome news that Hanka
had just arrived home in safety.

Later I heard from Hanka the story of her escape.

When I had hurried off to the right she had gone in the
opposite direction, still shedding cartridges in her path. She
had only taken a few steps when she saw a policeman coming
towards her, so instead of continuing her way she turned down
the first side street and walked boldly into the house which
fronted the corner. It was a big block of apartments, and to her
relief she saw that the porter was not in his lodge. Without
pausing, she ran up to the second floor and sat down on the
stairs to try and evolve some plan. Presently she heard voices
in the hall below her. One evidently belonged to the porter,
the other to a man, probably the tenant of one of the apart
ments.

"Will you believe it, I had only just gone down to the base
ment for a moment and when I came back I found a couple of
cartridges on the floor here . . ." said the porter. . . . "What
do you think I ought to do about it?"

"Oh, I should not bother about it," answered the other voice.
. . . "Some one must have dropped them, but it is not your
affair "

The porter was not satisfied.

"If trouble comes of it the police will blame me," he said.
. . . "I think I shall go and inform them. . . ."

"Why not have a look first?" said the other voice. . . .
"The person who dropped them must have gone upstairs. It
won t take you five minutes to search every floor. . . ."

Hanka held her breath and prepared for the worst. But the
porter was evidently a cautious man.

"No, no, I shall be on the safe side and fetch the police," he
replied. . . . "I shall go now so that they cannot accuse me of
losing time. ..."

She heard retreating steps and the slamming of a door and

130 PILSXJDSKI

waited for no more. She slipped downstairs and out into the
street. Once there she was able to mingle with the passers-by
and eventually reached her home. But not for several days did
she dare to leave the house or to communicate with any one in
the party.

Loneliness was one of the minor penalties attached to the
transport of arms, for those of us engaged in it could never visit
one another in an ordinary way lest the Russian secret service,
whose long, inquisitive fingers poked into every nook and
cranny of the country, should establish a link between us. We
were afraid, too, to make friends outside the party, for it would
mean exposing them to suspicion and perhaps danger on our
account. We used to welcome the summer because then we
could take rowing-boats and go out on the Vistula. There in
some cool shady backwater we could meet and talk for as long
as we would with no danger of being overheard. Sometimes on
Sundays we would go down the river to picnic in the orchards
of Saska Kempa and laze under the trees all the afternoon. Then
we would drink tea or beer on the terrace of some little caf6
crowded with the simple working-class people of Warsaw in
holiday mood and watch the young men and girls dancing the
polka to the strains of an overtaxed violin. Then when the
evening shadows were beginning to fall we would row back
slowly along the Vistula, lovely and mysterious as an enchanted
river with the last rays of the setting sun throwing great col
umns on the water, turning the yellow of the sandy shores to
bright gold.

Occasionally we dared to meet one another at the Art Ex
hibition. For some reason or other Government espionage was
not active there, although, as a matter of fact, many of the
exhibitors were members of our party, and of other revolution
ary parties.

Among those who sympathized with us in secret was the
painter Stabrowski, whose work was already becoming famous
both in Poland and in other countries. I shall always remem
ber a picture which he painted at about that time, a landscape
of fields fringed by forests, the eternally fertile fields of Poland,
but above them hung a cloud whose shadow fell upon the
earth in the form of a cross. I loved this picture more than any

THAT CERTAIN PILSUDSKI 131

other in the exhibition, and I used to dream of having the
money to buy it one day. But although my husband gave me
several of Stabrowski s works I was never able to have that
particular one, because it was destroyed during the Russian
Revolution of 1917.

The shadow of the Katorga was always in the background
of our lives, although by tacit understanding we never spoke
of it. It was a risk which we accepted gladly and willingly. Yet
we were neither sentimentalists nor fanatics, only ordinary men
and women with one consuming purpose. To free our country.
And for that no sacrifice seemed too great.

One of the women who was most successful in concealing
arms was a young and pretty dressmaker who had a fashionable
clientele in Lodz and afterwards in Warsaw. Naturally enough
it never occurred to the police who passed her smart little shop
dozens of times in a day that the French models in her show
cases were screening stacks of Mausers, or that there was any
thing worth a search in the cardboard boxes which she used
to deliver to her clients. But one day a workgirl whom she
had dismissed spied upon her, with the result that she was ar
rested and condemned to four years of the Katorga, followed
by exile to Siberia for life. To any one of her temperament
the sentence must have been harder to face than death; yet
she received it without flinching and went down to the cells
with a light and joyous step, singing patriotic songs as she
went.

Another woman who succeeded in smuggling large quan
tities of arms to the provinces was a spinster of middle age who
lived with her widowed mother in a small apartment in Warsaw.
Both were fervent patriots, and the old lady had in her youth
played an active part in the Insurrection of 1863. The daugh
ter began by carrying bibula (that is to say, illegal printed
matter), but after a while she begged to be trusted with arms
and ammunition. She decided not to tell her mother of what
she was doing, partly because she did not want to alarm her,
and partly because she had always appeared to disapprove of
her activities in transporting bibula. But one day she forgot to
lock the cupboard in which she had hidden a number of re
volvers, and on arriving home found her mother sitting with

PILSUDSKI

them spread out on the table in front of her. Instead of being
angry the old lady was delighted. . . . "Now at last you are
doing something really useful," she told her daughter. ... "I
never had patience with your foolish Socialist papers. This is
much better. This is the argument we used in 63." . . . And
she fingered a revolver lovingly.

As I have already explained, the transport of arms was car
ried out by men and women of all types. One of my helpers,
for example, was a music teacher, another was the wife of a
professor at the University, a third was a prosperous business
man, a fourth a young artist. All of them were prepared to leave
their homes and ordinary occupations at a moment s notice and
travel to any part of the country to collect a consignment,
They did it without any thought of reward. All the adventure
had to offer them was danger and discomfort, with exile as the
penalty for failure.

Those who stored arms ran a risk as great, if not greater, yet
any number of people were willing to provide accommodation
for this purpose. One of them was the lady doctor whom I have
already mentioned. I would often ring the night bell of her
surgery and she would steal downstairs in her dressing-gown to
take from me a box of Brownings. Another of my depots was
concealed in a carpenter s warehouse in one of the poorer sub
urbs. A veterinary surgeon used to hide Mausers in his empty
dog kennels, the owner of a music shop let me leave parcels of
ammunition among his pianos, a railway engineer lent his shed
for my principal depot in Warsaw.

The bombs were made in a small laboratory owned by two
brothers, one a chemist and the other a medical student. Their
father had been exiled to Siberia many years before as a per
sistent agitator against the Russian Government, and their
mother who lived with them and had brought them up in the
traditions of patriotism was overjoyed to see another genera
tion taking up the battle. She helped her sons in their work,
and I shall always recall my first meeting with her in the lab
oratory and how I was struck by the contrast between this
frail, gentle little woman and the bomb which she held in her
hand.

Although the party emphasized in its program complete

THAT CERTAIN PILSUDSKI 133

equality in franchise and in working conditions for both sexes
it was, unlike the Russian Socialist parties, opposed to letting
its women members take any part in combative measures, and
all armed demonstrations were carried out by the men alone. I
can only remember one exception.

Among the men of the Bojowka was a young student in
Warsaw who was engaged to a beautiful girl named Jadwiga
Krachelska, a pupil at the cole des Beaux Arts. She joined the
P.P.S. not only because it was her fiance s party, but because
she was a sincere convert to Socialism, and very few people in
the party were aware that she was the only daughter of a rich
landowning family, and had a big estate of her own.

Within a few days of the date fixed for their marriage her
fiance was imprisoned. He was brought before the prison ex
aminers many times for interrogation, but always with the
same result. He refused to betray the names of any of his as
sociates in the party. The usual Russian modes of inducing un
satisfactory prisoners to talk were resorted to, but even under
torture he remained silent. Eventually, either for lack of direct
evidence against him, or because the police grew tired of ques
tioning him, he was released. Wrecked in health, haunted by
the shadow of the Katorga, he went home and shot himself.

Jadwiga took the news of his death outwardly calm and re
signed. But from that day her whole life was dedicated to
avenging him. She never ceased to importune the Central Com
mittee to let her take part in the reprisals against the Russian
authorities. For a long time they refused, but in the end she
persuaded them to let her make an attempt on the life of Seal-
Ion, the Russian Governor who had ordered the torture of her
fianc6.

She took an apartment in Warsaw with her servant, Maria
Owczarkowna, the only person in whom she confided, and
who was also a member of the P.P.S. There she laid her plans
carefully, and when the Governor drove past in his carriage
one day she threw a bomb at him. It missed him, but his aide-de
camp and a policeman were wounded.

Scallon was one of the most hated men in Poland and the
crowd which collected deliberately misled the police so that the
two women were able to escape. The servant was arrested later,

134 PILSUDSKI

but refused to betray her mistress, who had, by that time,
crossed the frontier into Austrian Poland and taken refuge in
Cracow.

The Russian Government accordingly sent an official man
date to the Austrian Government, demanding that Jadwiga
Krachelska should be sent back to Warsaw for trial. But the
Austrians, more chivalrously inclined, had no wish to deliver
up to punishment a young and beautiful girl who had not of
fended against their own laws, and answered that they would
try her themselves. Thereupon ensued a solemn exchange of
letters and formalities lasting several weeks. But before any
thing definite had been arrived at, the prisoner, who had been
allowed bail, gave a new turn to the proceedings by going
through a civil marriage with a young Galician artist. They
parted immediately after the ceremony, but the bride had now
became an Austrian subject, and therefore there was no longer
any question of her being extradited for trial by the Rus
sians. When she was eventually brought before the Austrian
courts she was acquitted. Some years later she married Tytus
Filipowicz, who became Polish Ambassador to the United
States.

While I was taking part in this transport of arms I had an
unpleasant experience which might have put an end to my
story.

I had hidden a large number of Mausers in the attic studio
of a young artist in the party, and one afternoon I and another
girl went there to collect some of them, which we were going to
deliver to one of the provincial branches of the Bojowka. We
took with us a load of revolvers, which we carried through the
streets in a laundry basket, over which we placed a few clean
pillow-cases and a layer of the coloured tissue paper most
laundries use. We were very proud of the ingenuity of this
device, for it enabled us to pass right under the eyes of the po
lice, and we reached our destination without misadventure. The
artist s studio was on the top floor of apartments. She was out
when we arrived, but I had a key and we let ourselves in. We
deposited our revolvers in a cupboard, and then turned our
attention to the Mausers which were packed in two chests.
I picked out the number I wanted, and then noticed that the

THAT CERTAIN PILSUDSKI 135

cock of one of them would not close. I knew how to handle
both rifles and revolvers, because at PilsudskTs suggestion all
the women engaged in the transport of arms had been given a
short course of instruction in cleaning and caring for them, and
in marksmanship if they wished. So I set to work to examine
this refractory Mauser. The possibility of its being loaded never
even occurred to me, for all the arms which we smuggled from
place to place were examined first -as a matter of course, and I
myself had deposited this particular consignment only a couple
of days earlier. But I had no sooner taken it into my hands to
examine it than a shot rang out.

For a moment I was so appalled by the noise, which I thought
must betray our secret to every one in the house, that I felt no
pain, and it was not until the girl who was with me cried out in
horror that I looked down, and saw that my left shoe was full
of blood. The bullet had passed right through my foot, be
tween the boards of the floor, and through the ceiling of the
room below.

We waited in an agony of suspense, expecting to hear the
sound of people running upstairs, followed by knocking on the
door. But nothing happened, and we began to breathe more
freely. We did not dare to call for help and send for a doctor,
but we found a towel and tied it tightly round my ankle, and
that checked the flow of blood a little. We decided that the
only thing to do was to leave the apartment as quickly as pos
sible, and to go to my own doctor, who was a member of the
P.P.S., and could be trusted not to give us away. But then we
remembered the bullet. Perhaps it had killed or wounded some
one in the room below! We could not go until we were reas
sured on this point.

The artist s studio was naturally not equipped for experi
ments in masonry, but we found a chisel and a palette knife,
and with the aid of these we managed to scoop out enough
plaster between the floorboards to enable us to see into the
room below. To our unspeakable relief it was empty. There
still remained the question of how I was to get out of the house
and along the street to a cab without arousing suspicion. For
tunately, the skirts of those days touched the ground, and
after we had washed the blood from my shoe and put on one

136 PILSUDSKI

of the artist s thick stockings over my own stocking, there was
very little to be seen. So I began to hobble slowly and pain
fully down the five flights of stairs to the ground floor, praying
fervently that we should meet no one on the way. Again luck
befriended us. We were able to get out of the house unob
served.

We were obliged to walk more than half a mile before we
reached a cab rank, and to this day I do not know how I did it,
for every step was excruciatingly painful. By the time we
arrived at the doctor s surgery I was almost in a state of col
lapse.

Fortunately for me the bullet had passed straight through
my foot, making a clean flesh wound but not breaking any
bones. After it had been dressed I was able to drive home, but
I had to remain in bed for nearly a fortnight.

Later I discovered the cause of the accident and cursed ar
tistic irresponsibility. The painter had lent the gun to one of
her friends on the previous day and had forgotten to ascertain
whether it was unloaded when she put it away.

All through the restless, revolutionary years from 1906 to
1910 Joseph Pilsudski continued to train and organize his little
armed force that seemed so frail an opposition to the might of
Russia, and I and those who worked with me travelled all over
the country to equip it. We could judge its growth from its in
creasing needs; the military schools and provincial branches
absorbed our consignments of arms as quickly as we could
supply them. In that we had our reward.

CHAPTER XI

THOSE YEARS of transporting arms brought me many adven
tures. At one time when the Bojowka was threatened with ex
tinction and all its leaders were in prison or had fled over the
frontier, I had to carry on the organization almost alone, for it
was a vital necessity to keep up the import of arms and replen
ish those that had been lost in order that the troops could be
re-formed as quickly as possible. While I was familiar with the
whole routine of smuggling arms I had never had anything to
do with the buying of them; however, I knew the names of
the factories in Belgium which were our main source of supply
and got in touch with them. They agreed to go on furnishing
the usual consignments provided I could make satisfactory ar
rangements for their transport.

This was a difficulty which at first seemed unsurmountable,
for while I and my helpers could easily deal with the arms once
they had arrived within our radius, I had no idea of how to get
them over the frontier, and the men who had formerly been
responsible for this stage of the transport were all under arrest.

Finally, I decided that it would be safer to form an entirely
new chain of clearing-houses and intermediaries than to try to
piece together the old one, for I did not know how many of
those connected with it had been marked down by the police.
I would strike out on fresh ground and bring the consignments
through German Poland.

I went to open up negotiations and chose the town of Bytom
as being the best suited to my purpose. It was my first visit to
one of the districts under German rule, and in later years I
realized how accurately Joseph Pilsudski had described it when
he wrote:

"The German occupation weighted us down with a paw
which if not the most cruel and the most terrible was cer
tainly the strongest of all three of Poland s conquerors, as it

137

138 PILSUDSKI

was the most powerful, the most relentless, and the most
changeless."

There was nothing of the incompetence of the Russian sys
tem in this German-ruled Poland, and nothing of the easy-going
spirit of tolerance which characterized the Austrian provinces.
The regime was ruthless, efficient and brutalizing. The indus
trial towns were prosperous and inexpressibly dreary, the popu
lace thrifty, hard-working and joyless. A people whose blood
had not been shed, but slowly drained from them, whose pa
triotism had not been crushed to rise again as in Russian Poland,
but burnt out so that nothing but ashes remained. Years later
these seemingly dead ashes were to be rekindled and to burst
into a new flame.

I went to the first gunsmith s shop I came upon. It was stocked
with a curious medley of ironware. Rifles and revolvers shared
the window with kettles and pans and gardening tools. The
proprietor was alone when I entered, and I went straight to the
point. I had bought a quantity of arms and ammunition in Bel
gium. Would he undertake delivery of them and arrange for
their transport to Cracow? I would pay him well for his
trouble.

At first he stared at me open-mouthed, then when he grasped
the full import of what I was asking a look of sheer terror over
spread his face, and almost running from behind his counter,
he threw open the door. "I would not dare to do such a thing!"
... he exclaimed in a trembling voice. . . . "Even your
corning here is dangerous. You may have compromised me."
He looked round fearfully though there was no one in the
shop ; . . . "Go. Go quickly" . . . and he almost pushed me
outside.

I went to three other shops in Bytorn with no more encour
aging results, and then decided to try the busy industrial town
of Katowice. There I was more fortunate. The first arms dealer
I went to received my proposition with a smile. . . .

"Are you a revolutionary?" ... he asked. I told him that
I was.

"I had a good friend who was a revolutionary," he said
slowly. . . . "That was long ago, before you were born, young

THAT CERTAIN PILSUDSKI 139

lady. We were at school together, and then he went to live at
Warsaw and got himself mixed up with politics instead of stick
ing to business like me. So he went to prison and died there.
He was a foolish fellow, but still I liked him. . . . I will handle
your arms and ammunition for you. I will undertake delivery
from Belgium and you may collect them from me once a
week." . . .

He was as good as his word, with the result that at the end
of a few months we had replenished the equipment of the
Bojowka.

*

One day in January 1907 I sent one of my helpers, a young
man who was studying at the Commercial College, to collect
a consignment of arms which had just been brought over the
frontier. The arrangement was that he was to deposit them
at one of our depots in the suburbs and then to notify me at
the central office. In order to guard against spies this central
office was changed every few days and its address was never
given to any one unless he or she called in person at the little
stationer s shop which was owned by a member of the party,
and used as a sub-office for the re-direction of correspondence.
When at the end of the morning there was no sign of the
young man, my first thought was that he had probably missed
the train and had not been able to communicate with me. But
as hour after hour passed without news, I began to grow anx
ious, and finally I decided to call at the house of his parents,
whom I had often visited. They were ardent patriots and knew
of his work in the party so that I had no fear of betraying
him.

It was late afternoon when I walked up the garden path
of their pleasant little villa on the outskirts of Warsaw and
rang the bell. The door was opened immediately, not by the
usual peasant girl, but by two men. Before I could draw back
they seized me by the arms, pulled me roughly inside and shut
the door behind me. I knew even before I caught sight of the
uniformed gendarme behind them that I was in the hands of
the Russian police.

One of them still kept a detaining grasp on my sleeve as

140 PILSUDSKI

they took me into the salon, which looked as though a hurricane
had swept through it. All the furniture had been turned up
side down. Cushions and chair coverings had been ripped open,
pictures and curtains had been torn from the walls and thrown
on the ground, the contents of drawers were strewn all over
the floor.

In the midst of the chaos on two chairs facing one another
sat the boy s parents. The mother s face was white and drawn,
but not a flicker of recognition crossed it as her eyes met
mine.

One of the police agents signed to me to stand beside her and
began his interrogation.

"Who is this young woman?" . . . he asked.

"I do not know. I have never seen her before" ... she
replied.

"Then why does she come to your house?"

"You must ask her if you wish to find out, I cannot tell
you."

"She is a friend of your son s?"

"My son has a number of friends, but if this lady is one of
them I am not aware of it. I have told you that I do not
know her."

The agent turned to me . . .

"Who are these people?"

I told him that they were strangers to me.

"Then why do you come to their house?"

I replied that I was a governess and that I had come in answer
to an advertisement for some one to give lessons in French. It
was, of course, a lame explanation, but it was the best I could
invent on the spur of the moment, and although he returned
to the point again and again I persisted in my story.

After an hour or more of the same questions and the same
replies I was put into a carriage with a policeman on either side
of me and driven to the Danilowiczowska Prison. There I was
first searched and then shown into a small room containing
only a table and a couple of chairs. A Russian commissioner
was seated in one of them, and after signing to me to take the
one on the opposite side of the table, he opened the conversa
tion in a suave and disarming manner.

THAT CERTAIN PILSUDSKI 141

I waited. During the drive to the prison I had had time to
marshal my forces and decided that the wisest course was to
say as little as possible until I knew what evidence they had
against me.

"You are Alexandra Szczerbinska, and you are known as
Ola in the party, are you not?" he began.

"I do not know to what party you refer. I have been called
Ola since I was a child" ... I answered.

"How long have you worked for the party?" . . . was the
next question.

I answered that I worked for no party but that I had earned
my own living first in an office and then as a governess since I
left school.

"You are being childish in pretending that you do not un
derstand me" ... he said, dropping his suave manner. . . .
"You must answer these questions sensibly or we shall have to
find means of compelling you to do so. . . ."

As I remained silent he frowned and took up a sheaf of
papers which lay on the table in front of him. For a few mo
ments the only sound in the room came from the ticking of
a clock over the door. Then suddenly he looked up and began
to question me again.

Where were the party s headquarters? Who were its leaders?
Was Joseph Pilsudski one? How long had I known Pilsudski?
When had I last seen him? In answer to everything I professed
ignorance until at length he appeared to tire of the inquisition
and summoned a policeman. . . .

"Take this woman to the cells. I will examine her again to
morrow. . . ."

The man conducted me through iron gates which clanged
to after us and delivered me into the custody of a jailer who
wore a bunch of keys round his waist and carried a lantern.

By this time it was midnight and all lights in the prison
had been extinguished except an occasional oil lamp set in
brackets on the whitewashed walls of the corridor, through
which we passed. It was as cold and damp as a vault, and on
looking up I saw that there were no panes in the windows, only
bars, and the biting wind of the January night swept through
them. We stopped in front of a heavy oak door with a

142 PILSUDSKI

near the top through which the jailer shone his lantern. Then
he fumbled for the key from the bunch at his belt, opened the
door and pushed me inside. I heard the key turn in the lock
behind me and the sound of his footsteps retreating down the
corridor.

The room in which I found myself was so ill-lit that for a
moment I could see nothing. Then by the glimmer of one flick
ering oil lamp at the far end I made out row upon row of straw
mattresses laid out on the floor so closely together that it was
almost impossible to walk between them without stepping on
them. And on each mattress was a sleeping woman. Lining the
walls were pegs with the vague shapes of clothes suspended
from them. The atmosphere of the room was appalling, for its
sole ventilation came from three tiny grilles of about six inches
square, and over a hundred women were penned up together
in it night and day. No one was allowed to leave it for any
purpose after sunset, and one large earthenware vessel served
as a common receptacle. As it generally overflowed on to the
mattress of those nearest to it before the morning the filth of
the room was indescribable.

I stood for a while by the door until my eyes grew accus
tomed to the gloom and then tried to grope my way over the
floor in the direction of the grille. But I stumbled over one of
the mattresses and the occupant sat up and cursed me shrilly.
Other women whom she had awakened abused both her and me
impartially, and minutes passed before quiet descended on them
all again. Determined to risk no further contretemps, I sank
down on the floor by the wall and leant back against it. But I
could not close my eyes, try as I would. The closeness of the
room; the nauseating odours compounded of perspiration, stale
scent and unwashed humanity; the sounds that came out of the
shadows where women talked and tossed uneasily as they slept
or lay awake sobbing into their mattresses, made sleep impos
sible. The hours passed while I sat crouched uncomfortably
against the wall, longing for morning.

Suddenly I felt some one pulling my dress. I looked round.
A girl on a mattress a few feet away from me was sitting up
and trying to attract my attention.

"You ll get stiff sitting up there," she whispered. . . ,

THAT CERTAIN PILSTJDSKI 143

"And the cells are damp enough to give you a fever. Come and
lie down beside me. There s room enough for us both. . . ."

She made a place for me on her mattress and I lay down be
side her thankfully enough.

"I know what it feels like, your first night here" ... she
said as she drew the worn blanket which served as a covering
over us ... "But you ll get used to it. You re a political/ I
suppose?" I assented. . . .

"That s not so good, because they can send you to Katorga.
It s better to be like me. . . ."

I discovered that her name was Marietta and that she was a
prostitute . . , "But I m patriotic too . . ." she said proudly
. . . "I wouldn t have anything to do with a Russian no matter
how much he paid me. . . ."

She turned over and fell asleep. I tried to follow her example,
and told myself sternly that it was only imagination when I
seemed to feel something crawling all over me. At length un
der the warmth of the blanket I, too, dozed off, and did not
wake until the grey light of the January dawn was coming
through the grilles. All around me women were yawning and
shaking themselves like dogs. Those who had undressed were
getting into their clothes. My friend of the night before was
struggling into a torn and crumpled blouse. I saw that she had
a pretty little face framed by a cloud of tangled auburn
hair.

"I thought you were never going to wake" . . . she said
. . . "Hurry up. They will bring breakfast in a minute, and
I can tell you that you will have to fight for it if you want
any. . , ."

As she spoke there were footsteps in the corridor. The
grille in the door opened and two jailers pushed in the morning
meal. The women rushed in a body to get it, thrusting and
jostling each other out of the way, and quarrelling shrilly
among themselves. I should have got nothing but for Marietta,
who hurled herself into the melee and carne back with my share
as well as her own. But when I looked at the breakfast, which
she set down on the floor beside us, for there were no chairs or
tables or any other furniture but the rows of mattresses, I said
that I was not hungry. Even though I had fasted for many

144 PILSUDSKI

hours I could not eat the chunk of dry bread, or drink from the
bowl of hot water covered with a thick scum of grease.

The morning hours passed slowly. The grey of dawn gave
place to a pale sunlight that filtered through the grilles to fall
cruelly on unwashed faces and unkempt hair. At about eight
o clock the door was opened and we were allowed to go into
the corridor and to the lavatory, which was just a couple of
boards over a hole in the earth. It was in such a state of filth
that I could scarcely summon up courage to make use of it.
There was only one wash-basin for all of us, and that emitted
a thin trickle of ice-cold water. Soap or towels were un
dreamed-of luxuries unless they were supplied by friends out
side, and most of the women either dried their hands on their
underclothes or did not wash at all.

I was going back to the cell after a discouraging attempt
at a toilette when a woman with a pale intellectual face came
up to me and asked me whether I was a political prisoner.
When I replied in the affirmative she took me over to what she
called "the political corner" and introduced me to several
women there, most of whom belonged to the Social Democrat
Party. Some of them had been in the prison several weeks
awaiting trial, and they primed me with advice over the dif
ferent modes of interrogation. They also warned me of the
danger of conversing with the other inmates, for the Russians
often employed the method of getting one prisoner to spy on
another.

One of them lent me soap and a towel and another produced
a comb. I drew it through my hair and to my horror it came
out full of vermin even though I had only been in the prison
a few hours.

With the exception of this political group most of the
prisoners were drawn from the dregs of society, thieves, pros
titutes and criminals of all types. They used to huddle to
gether over the one small stove which was all the heating we
had, gossiping from morning till night, when they were not
wrangling or abusing one another. As we were never allowed
out for exercise and had no books or anything with which to
occupy our time they grew nervous and hysterical and gave
way to violent outbursts of mass emotion. When one of them

THAT CERTAIN PILSUDSKI 145

began to cry they would all cry with her and continue sobbing
in chorus, sometimes for hours. Yet later in the day one of
them would start laughing at nothing and they would all copy
her and make so much noise that the jailer would come to the
grille and shout to them to be quiet. Sometimes they used to
sing. Among the political prisoners was a Jewess of the Bund
Socialist Party, a dark girl with a pale, brooding face, the sad
eyes of her race, and one of the most beautiful voices I have
ever heard. In the evenings when most of the jailers were at
supper she would sing song after song, with the other women
joining in the chorus. Her favourite was the lament of the
Jews for their comrades killed in the pogroms . * . "Scat
tered upon the ground are the bodies of our people who have
been slain. . . ." She used to sing the melancholy, haunting air
with such tragedy in her voice that most of the women who
sang with her were reduced to tears even though they were
not of her race.

The worst quarrels took place over the food, because there
was never enough to go round. I rarely took my share, for
hungry as I was I could not force myself to eat it. The break
fast of dry bread and greasy hot water was never varied, and
we had only two other meals in the day, a plate of kascha (a
sort of oatmeal) which was served at noon, and in the evening.

The nights were the worst ordeal, to political prisoners at
least, for we never knew when we were going to be questioned.
Four or five times a week the door would be thrown open at
about two in the morning and the jailers would come flashing
their lanterns on us, hauling off first one woman and then
another for interrogation. I used to dread their coming so
much that I lay awake hour after hour listening for footsteps,
afraid to sleep lest I should be at a disadvantage, for the whole
object of these night-time examinations was to get the prisoners
when they were sleepy and off their guard and then to fire a
string of questions at them. Although I was interrogated in
this way several times, I always succeeded in standing my
ground and neither giving myself away or any one in the
party.

I and all the other women in the common cell had an almost
daily foretaste of Russia s Third Degree methods, for next to

PILSUDSKI

us was the room in which what were known as "compulsory
measures" were applied to the male prisoners awaiting trial.
The cries which used to come from it were so terrible that
most of the women were hysterical for hours after hearing
them.

I had been in the Danilowiczowska for nearly three weeks
when two jailers came to the door early one morning and told
me brusquely to put on my coat and come with them. I obeyed
with the sinking sensation which all of us who were political
prisoners felt whenever we received a summons. Because each
time it might be a prelude to torture or the Katorga.

In this case, however, it was only a transfer to another prison,
the Pawiak, where I was to remain until my trial.

Conditions in the Pawiak, one block of which was a women s
prison kept separate from the men s, were very much better.
Instead of one big common cell there were a number of small
ones, which were comparatively comfortable with wooden
chairs, a table and folding beds. We were also given half an
hour a day for exercise in the courtyard and allowed to have
our own books. I was put into a cell with five other women,
all of them political prisoners like myself. We used to specu
late on the probable length of the sentences we would receive.
We were all certain that I should get at least five years of the
Katorga followed by Siberia, for the transport of arms came
into the category of the most serious political crimes. But the
unexpected happened.

Among the women who shared the cell with me at the
Pawiak Prison was a young student of the Conservatoire who
had been arrested as a Socialist agitator. She was keenly inter
ested in spiritualism, which at that time was just beginning to
be seriously accepted, and endeavoured to convert the rest of
us to it. To pass the long evenings we formed a little circle
among ourselves and started to experiment in automatic writ
ing and table turning.

One evening a message came through addressed to me . . .
"Ola, you will be released a month to-day, . . ." It was signed
Jan Zelinsky. I asked who Jan Zelinsky was, and received the
answer that he had been imprisoned in the cell which we now
occupied, and had died there.

THAT CERTAIN PILSUDSKI 147

At the time I did not pay much attention to this message, for
on the face of things it seemed absurd.

Even though I might have the good fortune to escape being
sentenced to Katorga, which was highly improbable, no Russian
judge could possibly give me less than four years imprisonment
for smuggling arms. Apart from that the Pawiak had always
been a woman s prison so that it appeared most unlikely that
any such person as Jan Zelinsky had ever been imprisoned there.

The other girls, with the exception of the little music student,
treated the message as a joke, but as the days passed the convic
tion came to me that it was true, and almost without realizing it
I began to hope. But the weeks crawled by without any pros
pect of release for me; I had not even been taken before the
magistrates for my preliminary examination. On the evening
before the date which "J an Zelinsky" had named I went to bed
with a sense of disappointment, and responded rather half
heartedly to the teasing of the others who kept reminding me
that it was my last day in prison.

I was awakened very early by loud knocking at the door and
some one calling my name. A jailer was flashing his lantern
through the grille. He told me to dress and come with him to
the office of the Administrator of Police. I threw on my clothes,
not daring to hope, telling myself that it only meant another
interrogation.

The Administrator of Police was occupied with some papers
when I entered his office. He looked up from his writing only
for a moment to say . . .

"Alexandra Szczerbinska, you are to be released this morn
ing. You may leave immediately. . . ."

I walked out half dazed, still thinking that I must be dream
ing. But as I was crossing the quadrangle to the gates I remem
bered something. I turned to the jailer who was accompany
ing me . . .

"Have men ever been imprisoned here?" I asked . . .

"Why, yes" ... he said . . . "It was long before my
time. But I have heard some of the others speak of it. They had
a lot of young men, political prisoners, in here after the In
surrection of 1830. There was an epidemic of cholera and most
of them died. . . ."

148 PILSXJDSKI

It was not until some years later that I heard the reason for
my sudden release.

I had been arrested as a result of information given by a spy
in our own party, a young man who was the son of a patriot
family. As his parents had both belonged to the P.P.S. for sev
eral years, he had been received into it almost without question.
In reality he was a spy working in the pay of the Russian au
thorities. Thanks to my system of organizing the transport of
arms in a series of watertight compartments so that no depot
could be linked up with another, he had not been able to se
cure much evidence, but even so it would have been enough
to convict me. Over my trial, however, there arose a di
lemma.

By the Russian law I had to be confronted with two wit-
\ nesses for the prosecution. The police had hoped during the
time I was in prison to pile up indisputable proofs of my revolu
tionary activities either by discovering my arms depots or by
getting some one else in the party to betray me. But they ha d
not succeeded. The young man and his parents, at whose house
I had been arrested, had stood firm under repeated interro
gations, and the depots were too well hidden* There remained,
then, only the evidence of the spy who had accused me. But
he could not give it without exposing his own role in the
party, which would mean that the secret police could no
longer make use of him. They decided that the information
with which he was able to furnish them from time to time was
more valuable than my conviction, and therefore released me
without trial

On leaving the prison I did not return to my own apartment
but went instead to the house of friends, for I knew that I
should be subjected to strict surveillance. The Russian police
had a trick of releasing political prisoners in the hope that they
would be thrown momentarily off their guard and betray either
themselves or their associates. So I remained indoors for a week
or so, then dyed my hair blonde and departed for Kiev, carry
ing with me a whole consignment of revolvers and ammunition
for the branch of the Bojowka there.

Another girl, who was also a member of the party, travelled
with me part of the way, and I remember that we were both

THAT CERTAIN PILSUDSKI 149

in very high spirits and talked and laughed so much that an
old Russian lady who shared the compartment with us said
suddenly to me . . .

"I am quite sure that you have never been in love. I can
tell it from your laugh. No woman who has loved ever laughs
like that."

"No. I never have been" ... I answered, amused ... "I
am too much interested in my work to fall in love. I have not
the time. . . ."

She had a mild and kind face which reminded me of Aunt
Maria. Evidently they had the same views, because she answered
me ... "I do not know what your work is, but I think that
any one as young as you must be wasted in it if it leads you
away from the thought of marriage, which is the only career
for a woman. . . ."

I laughed again, imagining how shocked she would have
been to know that my work at that moment was carrying arms
which were to be used in an attack on a Russian bank which
the party was planning.

Joseph Pilsudski was at Kiev, and it was there that our ac
quaintance passed on to the plane of friendship. We used to go
long walks together.

The friend with whom I was staying in Kiev, a woman of
middle age, had little patience with my going for walks with
Pilsudski, in the first place because they usually made
me late for supper, and secondly because she disliked
him. . , .

"I can t imagine what any one sees in him" ... she used
to say crossly . . . "There are other men in the party with far
more brain, and he is so conceited."

Later I found out that she was wrong in that at least. Ac
tually he was the least egotistical of men, pliant in his out
look, always ready to listen to the opinions of others, even of
those much younger than himself. And he was intensely shy. To
the end of his life public speaking was an ordeal to him. He
must have made altogether some thousands of speeches to
every type of audience and on diverse subjects, but he never
made one without undergoing acute misery beforehand. He
set himself to conquer what he considered this weakness in his

150 PILSUDSKI

character, but it was only by a conscious effort of will that
he succeeded.

That was one of the things he confessed to me during those
walks in Kiev. At first our conversation was confined to general
subjects, for he was not a man who gave confidences easily.
But afterwards he lost his constraint and told me of his plans
for the future and his dreams for a new Poland that would rise
from the ashes of the past. In looking back I realize how many
of those dreams were afterwards fulfilled, and also that I never
doubted even then that they would be. It never struck me as
incongruous that this man, who was only the unknown leader
of a little revolutionary group, should talk of laws he meant to
pass, of the University he would found at Wilno, and of the
Polytechnic he would build at Lodz, . . .

"Our slavery will come to an end before long" . , . he used
to say . . . "because we shall profit by the general upheaval
there will be in Europe, A big war is bound to break out any
time within the next ten years. Germany and Austria will
certainly be involved in it, and probably Russia. And that will
be Poland s opportunity to free herself. Until then we can only
carry on constant guerilla warfare against Russia, and wait. But
above all else we must prepare ourselves so that when the mo
ment for a greater and wider conflict comes we shall be ready
fork. . . ."

He talked of the Polish state that would be created and of
the form of Government that would be best suited to it. He
thought that of the United States . . . "The democracy you
get in England is older and of finer traditions, but it is not plas
tic enough for a people as unused to self-government as we
shall be. We need a democracy based on Socialism. The average
Englishman does not understand Socialism. A Socialist is to
him a man who wears no collar and needs a haircut, mouthing
principles with which he has no patience* He does not realize
that the Socialism for which we fight is only another form of
democracy, that we are only reaching out for the freedom
which England has had for centuries and France since the Rev
olution. . . ."

x There was one subject which always ended in an argument
between us. The question of women s franchise. He had

THAT CERTAIN PILSUDSKI 151

already decided that in the new Poland women would have
equal rights with men in the government of the country. But he
always maintained that they would not use their vote wisely
because the feminine mentality was by nature intensely con
servative and too readily swayed by personal considerations.
I being an ardent feminist used to fly to arms at this, and the
walk generally ended in a heated dispute. On those days I used
to tell myself that my friend was right and that Pilsudski was
conceited. But one day the wind was taken out of my sails,
for I was out shopping when he called at the house and she en
tertained him at tea. When I returned later I found that she
had completely revised her original opinion of him and was
enthusiastic in his praise. . . .

"What a charming man he is when one gets to know him
better" . . . she explained. . . . "Such a brilliant brain. Really
it is absurd how people misjudge him." From that time onwards
he could do no wrong in her estimation.

I was amused at the fact that he had evidently sensed her
antagonism and instinctively overcome it. To him the human
soul was a harp with many chords and he knew unerringly
which one to touch in making a friend or winning over a polit
ical opponent. It was because of this that he was able all through
his life to reconcile men with widely opposing views and to
set them working harmoniously together.

CHAPTER XII

JOSEPH KIEMENS GINET-PILSUDSKI came into the world on
December jth, 1867, at Zulow, his father s estate in Lithuania.
His infant eyes opened on a vast panorama of snow-clad plains
backed by gently sloping hills and threaded with forests of
pine and birch, the heritage of a people rich in folk-lore and
steeped in tradition, clinging tenaciously to the ways and the
speech of their forefathers, still practising among themselves
customs founded on the primeval worship of the gods of the
woods and the rivers.

The Pilsudski property consisted of a rambling one-storied
manor house built of larchwood and set on the banks of a
stream. Flanking it were rows of tall chestnuts and fragrant
limes; in front was a lawn where the children played and
had their swings in summer. Behind it were the outbuildings,
the barns and carpentering sheds, the vats and presses, for
among the industries of the estate was a brewery. But the
value of the land was decreasing, the crops were dwindling
with each harvest through lack of proper handling, for the
owner, Joseph Pilsudski, had no idea of how to manage the
estate.

He was a handsome man, descended from a long line of
Lithuanian nobles, with a strain of Scottish blood from an
ancestor who had belonged to the ancient house of Butler and
had come out to Poland as a fugitive after the Jacobite re
bellion of 1745. But this intermingling of blood had left be
hind it a legacy of superb physical vitality, and a tradition
of gaiety and undying fidelity to an ideal rather than the
Scot s accepted qualities of energy and tenacity. The younger
Joseph had to acquire these from his mother. His father was
a man of considerable mental gifts, cultured, extremely well-
read, a brilliant pianist and a talented composer, but he had
the irresponsibility that so often accompanies the artistic
temperament, and a mercurial disposition, usually sunny but

15*

THAT CERTAIN PILSUDSKI 153

given to violent gusts of rage that shook the whole household
while they lasted. He was the kindest and most indulgent of
fathers, welcoming with undiminished enthusiasm the arrival
of each of the new babies who made their appearance at the
manor with the regularity of the spring flowers or the winter
gales. He used to invent games for them and tell them won
derful fairy tales, and generally succeeded in making their
world a colourful and adventurous place.

His wife, Maria, who was his second cousin, was delicate,
intellectual and witty, lame in one foot as the result of a
lingering and painful form of tuberculosis from which she suf
fered all her life, and with a small face covered with freckles,
considered in those days an unredeemable blemish. A woman
of an ethereal type of beauty but with great force of personal
ity and a gay dauntless courage which dominated her frail body.

Joseph, who was given his father s name, was her fourth
child and between them was a tie so strong that although he
was only fourteen when she died her influence lasted through
out his Me. Whenever he was faced with a difficult decision he
uesd to try to imagine what she would have wished him to
do and then do it . , . "As long as I can feel that I have
done right in her eyes I do not care if the whole world is
against me" ... he said in telling me of her in those days
at Kiev.

She was, he described her, "an irreconcilable patriot," and
it was from her lips that he first heard the story of Poland.
Her family had fought and suffered in the Insurrection of
1863 and memories of its terrible aftermath were still green
at Zulow and in all the Lithuanian countryside where the
savage cruelties of Muraviev, the Russian General, had earned
him the name of "The Hangman."

"The impression of his rule was still so fresh" . . . wrote
Joseph Pilsudski, "that people trembled at the sight of an
official uniform, and their faces lengthened at the sound of
a bell announcing the arrival of one of the representatives
of the Muscovite Government" . . .

In the manor at Zulow, as in every Polish and Lithuanian
home, patriotism could only flower in secret. In the evening

154 PILSUDSKI

when the servants were safely in the kitchen Maria Pilsudski
would unlock a drawer in her cabinet and take out the for
bidden books of Polish history and literature to read them to
her children. She loved best of all the works of the patriot
poets Krasinski and Slowacki and she taught her son Joseph
to love them too. When he grew older he used to read them
to her as she lay on her couch in the garden.

In accordance with the usual custom of the Polish nobility
of maintaining large households of poorer relatives and de
pendents the family at Zulow included besides the twelve
children, two aunts, one of whom was known as "The Gen
eral" because of her exploits in the Insurrection of 1863, sev
eral cousins and two governesses, one French and the other
German. Discipline was not rigidly enforced and the younger
generation at least led a happy carefree existence, roaming
about the estate, helping the peasants in the hayfield, and strip
ping the cherry trees in the orchard. Joseph was the ringleader
in everything. Of them all he had most strongly the heritage
of the countryman. Every glade of the forest was home to
him. There was not a path which he could not follow in the
darkness, not a bird s call which he could not identify. He
alone of all the family loved hunting, and he used to go
out fearlessly after wolf and boar. It was only in later years
that the taking of life became so repugnant to him that
he would neither shoot nor permit any one else to shoot on
his estate.

By the time Joseph reached the age of twelve the Pilsudskis
affairs had gone from bad to worse. His father sent for books
on the technique of farming and agriculture, introduced new
scientific methods and bought modern machinery. His reaping
and threshing machines were a source of wonder to the peas
ants, but they only succeeded in dissipating still further his
capital The climax came with a fire which broke out one night
and raged for hours, burning to the ground the wooden manor
house, the outbuildings and the newly-gathered harvest. Re
building was impossible, so collecting what little was left of
the library and furniture the family moved to Wilno and
rented a house in the city.

Joseph was sent to school at the Wilno Gymnase (the

THAT CERTAIN PILSUDSKI 155

Russian Secondary School) which was housed in what had
once been the ancient University of Wilno, sacred to Poles
because of its associations with Mickiewicz and Slowacki. His
sister described him to me as a quiet, rather stocky little boy,
inclined to be lazy except in studying the subjects that in
terested him . . . history, literature and mathematics. Of his
unhappiness and the bitterness that consumed him he gave no
sign, in those days. It was only years later that he wrote . . .

"For me my time at the Gymnasium was a sort of penal
servitude. The masters there were Czarist schoolmasters,
teachers and trainers of youth who brought all their political
passions to school with them, and whose system was to
crush as much as possible the independence and personal
dignity of their pupils. The atmosphere crushed me, the
injustice and the politics of the masters enraged me. A whole
ox s skin would not contain a description of the unceasing
humiliations and provocations from our teachers and the
degradation of all that I had been accustomed to respect
and love.

"My hatred for the Czarist administration and the Mus
covite oppression grew with every year. Helpless fury and
shame that I could do nothing to hinder my enemies often
stifleH me; my cheeks burned, that I must suffer in silence
while my pride was trampled upon, listening to lies and
scornful words about Poland, Poles and their history. The
feeling of oppression, the feeling of being a slave who
can be crushed like a worm at any moment, weighed on
my heart like a millstone. I always count those years
spent in the Gymnasium among the most unpleasant of
my life."

He turned to his mother for help. She did not fail him, but
there was nothing of the sentimental in her love. She gave him
such comfort as a mother of Sparta might have given . . .
"Endure, remember and wait. ...

"One day this tyranny will end. One day Poland will be
free "

"When will that day come?" he used to ask her ...

156 PILSUDSKI

"When we shall show ourselves worthy of it by fighting
for it "

Together they would make plans for the dawn of a new
and glorious day, the frail invalid lying on her couch and the
little schoolboy . . .

"In these moments she seemed inspired, as though her eyes
could indeed see into the future . . ." he said.

She taught him patience and self-restraint and to find con
solation in the books she loved. He read incessantly. He used
to come home from school and go up to his attic bedroom.
There he would sit up far into the night studying by the light
of a candle the forbidden history and literature. The story of
the French Revolution gripped him. . . .

"I read whatever I could get hold of about it . . ." he
wrote long afterwards. "Naturally I did not then under
stand the social basis of the movement, but I was enchanted
by the enthusiasm and revolutionary fury and by the part
taken by the great masses of the people. When I asked my
self why we Poles could not achieve such revolutionary
energy I could find only one answer . . . that we had been,
and still were, inferior to the French. This was a great blow
to my national pride. . . ."

The figure of Napoleon dominating that colossal back
ground of turmoil and struggle became his inspiration. He read
the history of his campaigns until he knew every phase by
heart. They woke in him the passionate longing for an army
career which was denied to him since as a Polish patriot he
would not serve in a Russian regiment. But because he was a
soldier by instinct loving "the whole art and tradition of war
fare, as he described it, he set himself to study every book he
could procure on military tactics.

At that stage of his life most of his friends were drawn
from the books he read, The death of his mother, which was
a crushing grief to him, made him withdraw into himself. The
Gymnase, now that she was no longer waiting for him at
home with words of comfort and encouragement, seemed still
more intolerable. But his reading had opened a new world

THAT CERTAIN PILSUDSKI 157

to him. At night the bare little attic was peopled with the
splendid figures of history. It was often nearly daybreak be
fore he reluctantly extinguished his solitary candle. Most
of his father s books had been destroyed in the fire at Zulow
but he saved up his pocket money to buy more, and borrowed
others from the school library and from friends. He read the
plays of Shakespeare so often that he could repeat whole Acts
from memory. He read Alexandre Dumas and Victor Hugo
and Alfred de Musset who introduced him to the beauty of
French verse. He had even in those school days a great ap
preciation of poetry, and later he learnt to know and love
the poets of every nation, but Slowacki was always the dear
est to him.

During his last years at the Gymnase he began to take up
the cause of Socialism. It was a step without precedent for a
member of a noble family, for it entailed breaking down
centuries-old barriers of tradition and inherited prejudice.

The Polish nobility into which he was born was a con
servative class, the remnants of a ruling order that had been
without equal in power and privileges. In time past they had
exercised a power over the country which was far mightier
than that of a king, for the king was elected by them, chosen
from candidates to be the puppet of the state while they were
the state itself. They used to come to these royal elections,
followed by their armies of retainers, sometimes numbering
as many as twenty thousand men, resolved to support the
aspirant, who was most likely to prove amenable in safe
guarding their prerogatives and lightening their taxes. Thus
laws were made and unmade to suit their convenience. The
peasants were kept in serfdom to enrich them with their
labour, the merchants and artisans were ground down to pay
the revenues to which they refused to contribute. In their
splendid castles they lived in regal state, surrounded by their
hundreds of servants and peasants, followed by their retinues
of young men of noble birth whose swords were pledged to
their service.

They travelled extensively and their journeys had all the
pomp and dignity of a royal progress with long cavalcades of
coaches and outriders escorted by men-at-arms. From their

158 PILSUDSKI

tours in foreign lands they returned with treasures to enrich
their castles. The weavers of Arras made tapestries for them,
the armourers of Toledo and Bilbao hammered out their finest
blades for them, the goldsmiths of Paris searched for rare gems
to adorn their costumes. Sometimes one of them brought back
a foreign wife with her train of female relatives, maids and
attendants to swell the already enormous household. They
were, in fact, magnificent and picturesque figures.

They ruled their great estates in patriarchal fashion, dis
pensing hospitality, money and aid to all who came to them.
They endowed schools and hospitals, were great patrons of
art, learning and the church, and kept open house to hosts of
poor relations and impoverished lesser nobles. Any one who
could claim kindred with them, no matter how remote, was
entitled to share their privileges, for long-established custom
had built a fence round their entire class, made of it a close
and jealously guarded preserve. Those born within the fence
could never be put outside it even though they might lack
lands and money. So the household of every great magnate
was full of dependents . . . sons of cousins seven or eight
times removed who must be educated with his own son, penni
less girls, vague relatives who must be given dowries and pro
vided with suitable husbands; elderly spinsters unwanted by
the rest of the world but who, because they bore his own
name, must not be left in undignified poverty.

Only a degree less in importance were the Szlachta, or
minor gentry, not so wealthy as the great landowners but shar
ing their rank and privileges, and with an equal voice in the
election of the king and the government of the country. Their
class was so numerous that at one time in a population of five
millions they accounted for over 200,000 people. Like the
great nobles they discharged their obligations to the Crown
by giving military service and were practically exempt from
paying taxes. Their condition varied. Some owned hundreds
of acres; others only a couple of fields and a cottage, but the
status of each was the same. However poor he might be he
could claim equality with the greatest noble in the kingdom.
The one might attend elections to the monarchy splendidly
apparelled and followed by a long train of retainers, the other

THAT CERTAIN PILSUDSKI 159

mounted on his own horse with his sword (the emblem and
privilege of nobility) attached to his waist by a threadbare
girdle. But the vote of each was of the same value.

It was this system which earned for Poland the rather
paradoxical title of "a republic of nobles," which in fact it
was, a genuine democracy based on freedom and equality,
scorning mercenary considerations. And that at a time when
bribery and corruption were rife in practically every govern
ment in Europe. It had, however, the disadvantage of apply
ing to only two sections of the nation. The all-powerful great
landowners and their companion body the Szlachta shaped
the destiny of Poland. Behind them millions of peasants toiled
in the fields, thousands of citizens and humble artisans plodded
patiently to carry on the industries of the country in whose
government they had no voice.

Centuries passed. The kingdom of Poland disappeared. But
the nobility who had bolstered it up and pulled the strings
controlling the puppet kings did not disappear with it. The
Partitioning Powers split up their estates into German, Rus
sian and Austrian territories, levied enormous taxes on them,
but they remained fundamentally unchanged. The aristocracy
of any country is naturally conservative, reactionary, prone
to follow the lines of least resistance, and the great Polish
landowners were no exception. The fetters which weighed
so heavily on the rest of the stricken nation were in their
case only silken bands. Before the partition they had at
tended the Courts of Vienna, St. Petersburg and Berlin, they
continued to attend them. Many of them had lands and in
terests abroad. They were thus only too vulnerable to the
external influence which has always proved so disastrous to
Poland. At the same time the intrigues of the Czar s agents in
the districts under Russian rule and the Austrian agents in
Galicia fermented trouble between them and the peasantry so
that the majority of them took no part in revolutionary efforts.
The Szlachta, who had adapted themselves to the new condi
tions, founded the middle class and produced many of Poland s
most famous men . . . artists, scientists, poets and musicians
. . . proved their patriotism time and again. They gave their
sons unsparingly to every endeavour of the nation to shake off

PILSUDSKI

its chains, to Kosciuszko s army, and again in later generations
to the Insurrections of 1830 and 1863. But the great land
owners, with certain exceptions, remained aloof.

To this, the most conservative caste in Poland, Joseph
Pilsudski belonged by birth, but he had few of its tastes and
still less of its mentality. His sympathies were with the
peasants and working men of whom he had an instinctive
knowledge and understanding. He was bitterly opposed to
the reactionary attitude of the nobility and wrote from Siberia
to his cousin urging him to stir up among the neighbouring
landowners some interest in the question of national independ
ence. . . .

"No class, however powerful it may be," ... he wrote,
"can carry through a successful insurrection. It must be
the work of the entire nation. Let us set aside these barriers
of class and unite the people only as men and women. . . ."

The labour conditions which he saw in Wilno made him
burn with indignation even in his student days. In describing
them he wrote . . .

"According to the law enforced throughout Russian
Poland the trade institutions with a few exceptions are
obliged to remain closed until 2 P.M. on Sundays. So the
pious Catholics shut the front doors of their shops and go
to church, but leave their wretched hirelings at work in
the back part of the premises. The police, who are well
paid by these slave-driving employers, are careful to confine
their inspection to the front of the house and turn a blind
eye to what goes on in the back.

"There are no limits to this exploitation of shop as
sistants and the working classes in general In most in
stitutions work lasts from 8 A.M. till to P.M, a fourteen-
hour day with only a short break for lunch! Many of those
who work under these conditions are boys and girls from
twelve to fifteen years old*"

The plight of these inarticulate thousands too crushed to
take the initiative of fighting for themselves roused him to
fierce rebellion.

THAT CERTAIN PILSUDSKI l6l

At that time he made his first contact with Socialism. . . .
"I began to call myself a Socialist in 1884" ... he wrote.
... "I say call myself with emphasis because that is all it
was. To say that I had any very clear and definite ideas re
garding the principles of Socialism would be quite another
thing. The Socialism which I professed then came to us in
Wilno from St. Petersburg, and it was quite different from
that of later days. It was a curious mixture of Socialist criticism
of bourgeois society with an anarchist ideal of self-governing
communes, and a somewhat reactionary faith in the Russian
nation in which, in contrast to the bourgeois West, Communist
elements were in full bloom. This Socialism was hypercritical
as regards Europe, but flattered Russia and was then in process
of transformation into the most commonplace doctrinaire
radicalism which used Russian messianism as a screen to hide
the lack of effort to raise the consciousness of the Russian
working people. . . ."

He began to study Socialism. The only books he could
procure were those on which every Russian Socialist pinned
his faith . . . the works of Michailovski, Pesarev, Lavelaye
and Iwaninkow, but their vague, misty talk and confused
theories bored him. With difficulty he got hold of a volume
of Karl Marx s Das Kapital, but although he studied it carefully
he rejected its abstract logic and the dominion of goods over
man. He was still unsettled in his ideas in 1885 when he en
tered on a course of medicine at the University of Kharkov.

He left the University at the end of his first year.

It was not a great disappointment to him. He had never felt
any vocation for medicine and had only agreed to study it after
long and heated arguments with his father who had insisted
on having a doctor in the family. All his own inclinations were
towards engineering and mathematics.

He returned to Wilno with the intention of going abroad
to continue his studies. In the meantime he formed a secret
society whose members were for the most part University
students and young men of the middle class. They drew up
their own program, a compound of Socialism and Polish na
tionalism, and brought out a publication consisting of one
or two typewritten sheets, which was circulated among them-

l6l PILSXJDSKI

selves and their friends. This little circle which used to meet
in the attic of his father s house was his beginning both as a
journalist and as a political organizer.

Even in those early years he was opposed to all acts of
political terrorism and violence, and it was therefore an irony
of Fate that he should have been arrested in consequence of
one in which he was not even remotely concerned. His elder
brother, Bronislas, who was a student at St. Petersburg, had
become involved in a circle which included among its mem
bers several of the men responsible for the attempted assassina
tion of the Czar Alexander III in 1887.

Bronislas, knowing nothing of the plot until after it was
exposed, had in all innocence given Joseph s address in Wilno
to one of these men who intended to take refuge in that city
until the affair had blown over. Instead, he was arrested and
the card was found on him. The Russian police, determined
to establish widespread complicity, seized upon this fresh
"evidence" and both the Pilsudskis were convicted. Bronislas
was sentenced to the Katorga and afterwards to exile for life.
Joseph was given five years in Siberia.

Five years can seem a lifetime at twenty and he rebelled
fiercely at the injustice of his sentence, as he set out on the
long march across the frozen plains of Siberia. At Irkutsk, one
stage of the journey, he took part in a mutiny among the
prisoners and received a blow on the mouth from the butt of a
guard s rifle which knocked out most of his teeth, and injured
the jawbone. His mouth was his one vanity, he was proud of
its fine curves and full sensitive lower lip and always regretted
when he was obliged to let his moustache and beard grow.

After the first few months in Siberia his mother s unquench
able spirit asserted itself in him . . . "Endure, remember,
and wait. . . ." He repeated the words to himself many
times as he lay awake at night in his lonely hut on the edge
of the forest. But he would do more than wait. He would
plan. Plan for a day which drew nearer with every dawn and
sunset. . . . "It was only there in Siberia, where I could peace
fully think over eveiything I had gone through in the past
and everything I wished to do in the future, that I became
what I am" ... he wrote later.

THAT CERTAIN PILSUDSKI 163

Physically he owed much to those years of exile. After
a year in desolate Lena he was sent to the region of Tunka,
and the purity of the climate there rid him of an hereditary
tendency to weakness of the lungs. He spent hours in the
open every day, fishing the limpid mountain streams, roaming
the forest, hunting the wolves and the fierce brown Siberian
bears. The love of the country which he had known in his
childhood awoke once more in him. He became conscious of
his own affinity with the earth; the grandeur of the mountains
brought him peace and consolation, the beauty of the sunrise
over the forest was a message of home. He was never to lose
this sense of kinship with nature. In the later stormy years
of his life, when he wrestled not with his own personal prob
lems but with those of a nation, he would always seek the
solitude of the woods and fields when he could.

The Russian Government allowed its exiles in Siberia un
limited freedom within a certain broad radius, knowing that
they would not attempt to escape because they had nowhere
to escape to. The wilderness and the wolves barred their way
more effectively than a whole regiment of soldiers. So he was
able not only to hunt in the forest but to go into the neigh
bouring village.

He became friendly with other Polish political prisoners,
among them Bronislaw Szwarce, who had played a prominent
part in the Insurrection of 1863. They used to sit over the
fire in Szwarce s little cabin talking for hours, the old patriot,
white-haired after twenty years in exile, defeated but still un
broken in spirit, full of his dreams of another armed insurrec
tion that should free Poland. And the young man listening to
him, fired by his enthusiasm, registering a vow that one day
he wpuld lead that insurrection and that when the time came
it should not fail.

He met among these exiles men of all types: Poles, Rus
sians and Jews. Followers of Tolstoy, anarchists, disciples of
various religious sects whose doctrine had aroused the re
sentment of the Czarist authorities, and Socialists of different
parties. He listened to all their theories, learned to distinguish
between the true and the false. Those years in Siberia changed
him from a youth, ardent, romantic, full of half -defined ideals

164. PILSUDSKI

to a man, practical, calculating, confirmed in his convictions.

His exile ended in 1892 and he went back to Wilno where
he found that a number of political parties had come into
being. Only one of them united in its program the two aims
which were to him inseparable . . . national independence
and Socialism ... the new Polish Socialist party which had
been formed in Paris. Two of its founders, Mendelssohn and
Alexander Sulkiewicz, were then in Wilno and they invited
him to join them. They organized a branch of the party and
held their first congress in Wilno in the summer of 1893.
Among the resolutions passed was a plan for the publication of
a party newspaper. Joseph Pilsudski was given an imposing
appointment of editor-in-chief. What he actually became was
editor, business manager, compositor and printer. The name
of the paper was chosen, the Robotnik (Workman) and the
first number was printed in February 1894 in London.

He spent the next few years in building up the party, in
organizing its campaign and recruiting new members. He was
on the Russian Government s Black List now; his photograph
and description were issued to every police station with orders
for his arrest. He dropped his own name and became known
as "Comrade Victor," or "Misezyslaw," changed his appear
ance by shaving off his beard and cutting the heavy eyebrows
which were characteristic of him. He travelled incessantly all
over the country, availing himself of the facilities of the dif
ferent territories. When Russian Poland grew too unsafe for
him he would cross over into the Austrian provinces and re
main there in hiding. He became in those years "a specialist
in frontier breaking," as he described himself.

He went into the country districts addressing himself to
the peasants, enrolling hundreds of them in the party, and to
the great industrial towns to circulate his pamphlets and
canvass the workers in their dinner hour. He even carried
his propaganda into the Russian universities, rallied the stu
dents to his cause. One month he would be in London, where
a Polish Socialist Committee had been established, making
contact with the English Socialists and securing contributors
to his paper. And the next he would be in Zurich attending
an international congress. He used to sit up half the night

THAT CERTAIN PILSUDSKI 165

writing his articles, or printing them with Wojciechowski on
their little press.

It was a hand-to-mouth existence for him in those days,
for the party had scarcely any funds behind it and his political
activities had estranged him from his family. He was con
stantly in flight from the Russian authorities; he could rarely
remain in the same place longer than a few days. When he
was in Wilno he slept out in the forest night after night be
cause none of his acquaintances dared to take him into their
houses for fear of a search by the secret police. He used to
spend such leisure as he had sitting in some church, since he
could not walk in the streets without running the risk of being
recognized and arrested.

In 1896 he attended the International Congress of Socialism
in London. The question of Poland s claim to independence
was discussed. The Russian Socialists were opposed to it on
the usual contention that a separation of Polish and Russian
commercial interests would have unfavourable repercussions
among the workers, and also that Polish cultural development
and Polish capital were needed to further the Socialist move
ment in Russia.

Joseph Pilsudski stated the cause for his country with such
passionate eloquence that he carried the day. The Congress
passed a resolution "that the Independence of Poland was
necessary both in the interest of the international workers and
the Polish proletariat." Later the formula was amended to one
proclaiming the right of every people to determine its own
nationality and government. It was his first victory.

He spent many months in London, for he was bringing out
a brochure which was to be smuggled into Poland and circu
lated there. He called it "In Remembrance of May," and
among the English contributors were Tom Mann, E. Aveling
and H. Quelch. It was edited in his lodgings at Leytonstone.
There he could work in peace, free of the shadow of the secret
police. During the next few years he spent much of his time in
England and some numbers of the Robotnik were printed there.

Those days in London were happy ones for him although
he lived in the simplest fashion, spending money only on the
barest necessities. He used to go for walks on Leytonstone

l66 PILSUDSKI

Common with the children of the young Polish couple with
whom he lodged, sailing their toy boats on the pond for them,
getting them to teach him English, which they spoke fluently.
Years later one of these same children, now grown into an
attractive young lady, came to visit us at the Belvedere, and
I remember how my husband laughed when she reminded him
that he had never been able to get the correct pronunciation
of the word "ceiling," even when she had stamped her feet at
him until he threatened to throw her in the pond. He had a
great affection for children and an instinctive understanding
of them so that they were always drawn to him.

He spent as much time as he could spare in exploring Lon
don. He avoided the usual program of the average tourist
from the Continent, preferring to wander in the peaceful
courts of the Temple, or the crowded markets of Soho. On
Sundays he used to listen to the Hyde Park orators or mingle
with the groups round the Serpentine, a quiet, rather lonely
young man, one of London s thousands of foreigners but with
plans that were to change the destiny of a nation germinating
in his brain.

He was fond of London for all it represented to him, for
the freedom of its people, for its political tolerance and cen
turies-old tradition. Although he was a Socialist and a revolu
tionary there was much of the conservative in him, and an
ingrained liking for law and order. The solid structure of
Victorian England founded on the unchanging character of the
nation appealed to this.

The English craze for sport first puzzled and then intrigued
him ... "I came to the conclusion that the average English
man could not even see a stone lying in the road without
wanting to kick it" . . . he told me in those days at Kiev . . .
"And then I saw that this kicking of stones and pursuit of
balls appeared to have a favourable effect oti the young men
of the nation and that therefore we Poles ought to copy it." So
he included in his plan for the future of Poland a scheme for
establishing sports and physical training centres which would
be within the scope of all classes. He carried it out to the letter
and in the twenty-one years of our existence as a separate state
our youth attained a surprising standard of efficiency in sports.

PART FOUR

*
THE WHITE EAGLE

CHAPTER XIII

ROBOTNIK," the official organ of the P.P.S. for work
men, had a chequered career. Two consecutive numbers were
rarely edited in the same place. It was printed in secret in a
variety of dingy houses and damp cellars, smuggled over
frontiers and circulated among labourers who hid it under
their overalls, and students who pasted cuttings from it be
tween the leaves of their exercise books. But the demand for
it steadily increased. When affairs began to improve slightly
Joseph Pilsudski took an apartment which he shared with
his friend Stanislas Wojciechowski, who later became Presi
dent of Poland. It was a very small apartment and most of
the space was taken up by the printing press and its acces
sories. They would not employ a servant or charwoman for
fear of being spied upon, so the housework was done by
Wojciechowski who was a practical young man and even
managed to do all the cooking on their one little stove. Joseph,
who was incapable of so much as boiling an egg, told me that
he was most grateful to his friend, who not only kept the
menage running smoothly but looked after him like a mother,
though he used to complain that his most ambitious culinary
efforts were generally spoilt by his being called away at the most
critical moment to help with setting up type. On those days
they used to sit down to charred meat and sodden vegetables.

As the success of the paper among the working classes
became established it was decided to publish it on a more
extensive scale, and to make the busy industrial city of Lodz
(our Polish Manchester) its headquarters. Pilsudski wanted to
reach the thousands of mill hands and textile workers who
slaved amid the noise and heat of the looms for 12 hours a
day. They were the fertile soil in which he could sow the
seeds of an armed rebellion that would free not only them
selves but the whole nation.

He went to Lodz in 1899 with his first wife, Maria Jusz-

169

170 PILSUDSKI

kiewez, to whom he was now married and a young man, Carol
Rosnowski, an ex-student of the Moscow University, who was
to help with the printing. They took a first-floor apartment
in one of the busiest quarters of the city. The largest of the
rooms was given over to the press and almost every article of
furniture in it served a double purpose. The printing machine
and boxes of type were kept in a wardrobe, the paper was
concealed in the hollow back of a sofa, manuscript and
reference books were locked away in a chest of drawers, and
the key of the press was hidden in a space scooped out in the
base of an Eastern idol. In that room they worked ten and
eleven hours a day with scarcely a break, editing and cutting
the articles and setting up the type. The actual printing could
only be done in the busiest hours of the day when there was
sufficient noise coming from the neighbouring warehouses and
offices to drown the sound of the machinery but they often
sat up all night writing. A twelve-page number generally took
fifteen to sixteen days for the little machine was intended to
be used only for small advertisements and visiting cards, and
could never turn off more than one page at a time. As each
monthly issue consisted of 1,900 copies, one page therefore
needed at least eight hours work, and more if there were
frequent interruptions or special care had to be taken in the
matter of noise. All the editorial work had to be done in scraps
between the four or five-hour shifts at the machine and there
were moments of crisis when it was discovered that the lead
ing article was ten or twelve lines too long or that there was
not another letter "r" left. Then the harassed editor-manager-
compositor had to make hasty adjustments, cut down the of
fending leader without sacrificing its sense, substitute words
containing no "r."

At the end of the first year in Lodz the circulation of the
paper was sufficient to trouble the sleep of the Russian authori
ties and set them searching for the secret press. There were
frequent alarms when the apartment was visited by strangers,
but the press was always dismantled and hidden in the nick
of time and they saw nothing of a suspicious nature. Then
on February 22nd, 1900, sheer chance put all the cards into
their hands.

THE WHITE EAGLE IJI

A young man named Malinsky, who had been imprisoned,
managed to escape and went to Lodz to see Pilsudski. In the
street he was recognized by two police agents who followed
him at a discreet distance to the apartment.

At a late hour that same evening Joseph Pilsudski was toil
ing over the thirty-sixth number of the Robotmk when the
door was flung open and several policemen headed by a
lieutenant-colonel burst into the room. There was no time to
hide anything from them; the press stood there before their
eyes with a page of the newspaper whose origin they had so
long sought to discover lying upon it. The lieutenant-colonel
picked it up, pointed an accusing finger at the leading article
. . . "Triumph of Freedom of the Press" . . .

"For my part" ... he remarked dryly as his men took
the prisoners into custody ... "I think there is something
to be said against the value of the printing press."

Pilsudski could only stand by in silence while they dis
mantled the machine. . . .

"I confess that in spite of the many cheerless moments
I had spent over it" ... he wrote later . . . "and al
though I had often lost my temper with it and called it
an old rattler and a stupid beast/ yet my heart ached to
see it in the hands of the police agents as they moved it
from its stand to a basket. When the basket was sealed I
stood by as if the coffin lid had closed on some one near and
very dear to me. So many hopes, so much love, so much
devotion were bound up with this scrap of iron, now con
demned to silence and inactivity."

After a couple of months in the local prison at Lodz he
was transferred to the Warsaw Citadel, that name of fate en
graved on the history of Poland by generations of her patriots
who have passed within its damp and gloomy walls. There he
remained for the best part of a year, in solitary confinement
in a narrow whitewashed cell containing only a battered iron
bedstead, a dirty table, and a wooden stool.

Yet he was not altogether unhappy. Many years later he
wrote of his experiences there. . . .

172 PILSUDSKI

"As far as I am concerned I always held that I was
born a prisoner, because it was easy for me to reconstruct
the charm of life. This is perhaps the hardest part of im
prisonment, the necessity to create for oneself something
independent of any outsider, to create a prison life out of
one s own resources. To create it under abnormal condi
tions, alone and without assistance, seeking to find by some
means or other what I might call the luxury of prison/
When a man seeks for material to achieve this end he finds
that he is so limited in means, so restricted in methods,
that he almost gives up the attempt. His hands can find
nothing to do. There are no tools available with which to
make anything. Material objects are so limited and so in
significant that the mind gropes with difficulty for some
thing to cling to.

"And what is there in prison? Only walls and a small
number of articles designed for the prisoner s use. One
makes various attempts to imitate the life which is teem
ing elsewhere. In the prison cells there are flies and other
creatures which have got there. There have even been pris
oners who have grown to have a great affection for bugs,
and thus satisfied their need for independence. To seek a
life outside prison conditions, to create a luxury for one
self alone, that is the prisoner s psychological need.

"I was thankful in those days in the Citadel for the
natural gift which enabled me to evoke in my soul dreams
and ideas with great facility. I did not become attached
to any material things, but, when I look back on my ex
perience in many prisons, I remember one particular pleas
uremy great joy in being able to move things about in
my cell. There are many prisons where nothing can be
moved because everything is fixed and screwed down. That
is why I look back with pleasant emotion upon my con
finement in the Warsaw Citadel. In other prisons, you had
nothing for yourself, but there everything belonged to you,
because you had the right to move it.

"When I was brought into cell number twenty-six of the
Tenth Pavilion of Warsaw Citadel it seemed to have all
the charms of a hotel room, though a very poor one; my

THE WHITE EAGLE 173

suitcase was lying there, and I could move my things freely
from one corner to another; when I kicked the table it
moved obediently.

"If I represent prison life in this manner it is because I
do not consider it to be totally without pleasure. I could
fight against prison conditions with my lively and vivid
imagination; I was able to create my own life of thought
and dreams, a life of illusions in which I had freer rein than
was possible in everyday life, when so many eyes are watch
ing with suspicion. You are conscious of no restraint once
you ignore the jailer s watchful gaze. Once I had reached
this stage I was able to create in myself everything I re
quired, for time was no consideration.

"If you believe that with my vivid imagination, which
grasped at everything and covered all the domains of
human thought, I differed from other prisoners, who
lacked my freedom of thought, you are mistaken, for I
have found that all the other prisoners whom I questioned
acted as I did. In how many prisons have I not seen this
desire to create their own independent luxury!

"They start the study of languages though they never
studied them in their lives before. They toil over strange
words and queer expressions, in which they vainly en
deavour to find some sense, and which they do not know
how to pronounce, so that they acquire faults of pro
nunciation of which they are never able to free them
selves afterwards. I, myself, had this experience over the
English language, which I studied while in prison, and in
which I became so used to faulty and incorrect pronuncia
tion that I have never been able to speak it properly since.
Never having had a particular fondness for the study of
languages I should not have had the courage to learn them
while I was at liberty, and yet I committed this crime
against myself in moiling and toiling at the English lan
guage "while I was in prison.

"I used to be passionately fond of chess, although, un
fortunately, this is a game which requires a partner. I tried
to make a tiny chessboard, and I managed to make one
on the back of a book which lay in every cell, the Bible.

174 PILSUDSKI

With the help of matches, which I had, since luckily I was
allowed to smoke, I was able to make the black squares
of the board. The chessmen I fashioned so clumsily that
I would be ashamed for any one to see the miserable rooks
and bishops which I produced. I concealed this with cun
ning and skill during the daily cell inspection, so as to
retain as long as possible the treasure by which I outwitted
my merciless oppressors. It is absolutely essential thus to
seek for resources in oneself, to seek to fashion from the
crumbs which one has brought into prison from the scraps
which fall into one s hands, a new spiritual prison life" . . .

Prison to him was sweetened by the thought of the patriots
who had walked that same road before him, a long and un
broken chain stretching back to the days of the First Parti
tion. In imagination he could feel their presence. In the lonely
evenings the cell seemed full of the ghosts of men who had
fought for freedom. Their efforts became identified with his,
in him they lived again. . . .

"For a long time prisons have formed a part of Polish
civilization" . . . he wrote later . . . "During the last hun-
dred-and-fifty years there was hardly a man who did not
come in contact with prison in some way. There has not
been a single prominent movement in which prison has not
been the companion of Poles from the cradle to the grave.
Every one spoke of prison as of a living part of his soul.

"I have frequently asked myself whether all those
prison experiences of Poland, with all their sacrifices and
terror, with all the beauty of the human soul tormented
in abnormal conditions, garrotted, beaten, tired out, and
yet prompt to rebel, whether this beauty is not one of the
traits peculiar to our generation. When I think of this
and gaze on the eyes of children and young people living
under happier conditions than we did, I ask myself if the
time is not approaching when those verses, which caused
pur hearts to beat in the past, will not be read and recited
in schools as something strange and distant, to be passed
over in the same manner as we passed over and disregarded

THE WHITE EAGLE 175

the beauties of Greek poetry when they were forced upon
us.

"Then a great sadness comes to those who have passed
through prison life with rebellion and fight in their souls,
and who created from themselves, and their greater or
lesser sufferings a Polish culture, which is now passing.
There is strength in prison and a charm of forgetfulness,
too. We, the people of the prison era, are fading into the
past. A new generation is arising, a new generation which
will soon be alien to us, for its Ups have never quaffed the
cup of mingled bitterness and delight that we tasted. I
see the eyes of children open wide with surprise that there
could have been times when prison, that is to say, a
humiliation that crushes a man to the ground, could awaken
in us a spark of enthusiasm, light fire in our eyes, and
bring smiles to our lips. And then I think of those who
are coming after us without anxiety. May they forget us,
the prison generation, may they forget our struggles and
sufferings, may they advance to a new life, where the charm
of prisons will not bring a smile to the lips nor poison to
the heart. . . ."

So Joseph Pilsudski wrote in those tranquil days of 1925.
But alas, since then that new generation whose untroubled
eyes inspired him with hope for the future has in its turn
become "a prison generation." To-day the jails of Poland
are once more full of those who have known how to resist
aggression and tyranny even as their fathers resisted it, and
who have, like them, "quaffed the cup of mingled bitterness
and delight."

The prison system of Russian Poland was a curious com
pound of brutality and indulgence. It was unbelievably harsh
in many respects and ridiculously lax in others. Above all it
was incompetent, like all Russian Government institutions.

"In the prisons of Russia proper" . . . wrote Joseph
Pilsudski . . . "the chief aim of the prison regime was to

176 PILSUDSKI

create a condition of fear in the prisoner, the whole
prison system being based on the principle of correct
ing naughty ^children by hurting them. Relations with the
prisoner were to a certain extent based on law, but only
on a law of jailer and prisoners. The standard of conduct
was not merely one of violence and force, but there was
an almost scientific search for ways of inflicting pain and
suffering on the prisoner, of systematically intimidating
him.

"The Russian prisons in Poland were quite different.
A typical specimen of these was the Tenth Pavilion of the
Warsaw Citadel, which was for political prisoners only.
Those who locked us up in these prisons were supremely
indifferent. Force and violence were used frankly, without
any effort to justify them by arguments of morality . . .
It was simply that all undesirables were confined there.
For this reason I have never encountered a more cheerful
prison than the Tenth Pavilion, almost everything which
was strictly forbidden elsewhere was admissible there. Every
generation of prisoners used to dig tunnels under the walls,
and these were calmly filled up, so that the next genera
tion had the task of reconstructing them. The rule for
bidding us to dig tunnels might have been a mere formal
ity, for no one cared in the least whether the prisoner did
so. A prison cell in which everything could be moved,
where we could change all the furniture around, move the
bed from place to place, such an hotel of a prison in fact,
I have never met anywhere else. . . ."

It was this very incompetence which facilitated his escape.
From the day of his arrest members of the party had been
working energetically on his behalf. The first necessity was
to find a means of communicating with him, but for some
time this appeared impossible since he was not allowed to see
visitors and no parcels containing clothes or anything else
could be sent into the prison without special permission, which
was only rarely accorded. In any case they would have been
too thoroughly examined by the prison officials to hold out
any hope of concealing a message. Several weeks passed before

THE WHITE EAGLE 177

the problem was solved by one of the women members of the
P.P.S. who prevailed on a warder to act as go-between.

This warder, Alexel Siedielnikow, was a Russian repre
senting all that is best in the Russian character, simple, kindly,
deeply religious, a man who would have been after the heart
of Tolstoy. Resident in Poland for many years and married
to a Polish wife he was in sympathy with the political pris
oners of whom he had charge, and made their lot more beara
ble in many ways. With very little persuasion he consented
to take notes to "Comrade Victor," as Joseph Pilsudski was
known. This difficulty having been overcome the next step
was to devise a means of escape.

In the case of a political offence of such magnitude in the
eyes of the Russian Government as publishing a revolutionary
newspaper no leniency could be expected. After a few years
of solitary confinement while awaiting trial the minimum sen
tence would be ten years in the North-East of Siberia where
the worst prisoners were sent since they were not likely to
survive the climate long enough to give much trouble.

Escape would be utterly impossible from Siberia and al
most as difficult from the Citadel, so the only solution was
to compel the authorities to transfer Pilsudski to another
prison. This was rarely done except in the case of illness too
severe to be dealt with in the Citadel Infirmary, or else in
sanity. It was decided that the latter could be most success
fully feigned. The plan was outlined in a letter which the
friendly warder smuggled into the prison. Pilsudski immedi
ately agreed to it and a well-known mental specialist who was
in sympathy with the P.P.S. supplied him with detailed instruc
tions. Acting on them he changed his whole demeanour, be
came morose and melancholy and refused to speak to the of
ficials who visited his cell. After a week or two he began to
evince symptoms of persecution mania and refused to eat any
food lest it had been poisoned. The kindly warder tried to
tempt him with first one delicacy and then another, but he re
jected them all and would touch nothing but boiled eggs,
which he said could not be tampered with by his enemies. At
night he used to hold conversations with imaginary visitors,
playing his part so realistically that some of the more ignorant

iy8 PILSUDSKI

and superstitious jailers spread the report that the cell was
haunted by the ghosts of former prisoners and began to avoid
it. He had always had a natural gift for acting and mimicry and
he utilized it and the medical knowledge he had gained at the
University so successfully that he deceived even the prison
doctor. But at the end of several months the strain of his self-
imposed starvation had told so severely upon his health that he
was obliged to abandon this part of his pose. Finally one of his
relatives wrote to the Governor of the prison asking that a
mental specialist should be permitted to visit him and offering
to pay the necessary fee. The request was granted on the
condition that the specialist should not be a Pole and therefore
Dr. Ivan Sabashnikov, director of the Russian Lunatic Asylum
of St. John the Divine, was called in.

The moment that the doctor entered the cell he knew that
he was dealing with a sane man. He sat down and began to
talk to him, not about his health but about Siberia, his own
native place. They chatted for an hour or more of the forest
and the hunting without any reference to the real purpose of
the visit. But that apparently irrelevant conversation, based
on a mutual interest, did more for the prisoner than any
eloquent plea for aid, for the doctor who was passionately
devoted to his native country was drawn to him. When he
left the cell he signed a report to the prison authorities in
which he stated that in his opinion Joseph Pilsudski s mental
state was being seriously affected by his solitary, confinement
and that with a return to more normal conditions he would
be restored to complete sanity.

The authorities responded to this by transferring the pris
oner to the lunatic asylum of St. Nicholas in Petersburg.

The months which followed were, as he afterwards told
me, the hardest ordeal in his life. To leave the world of sanity,
to let himself be branded as a madman, and enclosed within
high stone walls in the company of madmen, with only the
slender chance of one day recovering his liberty, demanded his
utmost reserves of courage. There were times when he longed
to find himself back in his cell at the Citadel, when he cursed
his folly in consenting to the daring scheme.

He was put into a dormitory which housed over fifty

THE WHITE EAGLE 179

lunatics, men suffering from every type of delusion from
religious obsessions to homicidal mania. Their ravings kept
him awake at night. The system of supervision at the asylum
was lax in the extreme and terrible fights broke out between
the inmates which were only quelled when the attendants burst
in upon them, striking out brutally with their truncheons.

As the weeks passed by he grew more and more despondent,
thinking that his friends plan had miscarried, that they had
not been able to communicate with him and that he would be
left to his fate, condemned to live a sane man among mad
men, until he too went mad in reality. Then at last a message
reached him. All was well. Only patience was needed.

Among the members of the P.P.S. was a young doctor
named Wladyslaw Mazurkiewicz, who undertook to carry out
the principal part in the escape, though it meant the sacrifice
of his own career. The decision was a hard one, for he was
ambitious and on the threshold of success, and he had not
even met the man for whom he was asked to risk so much.
Yet he did not hesitate. He applied for a post as house surgeon
at the St. Nicholas and obtained it.

Once on the staff of the asylum the rest was comparatively
easy. He brought in, piece by piece in order to avoid carrying
too bulky a parcel, a suit of clothes for Pilsudski to wear when
he went out into the world again, and secreted them in one
of the medicine chests. This having been done he waited his
opportunity. It came on the first of May, when a fair was
held in the city and discipline was relaxed even at the asylum.
Fortunately, the head physician was absent at a conference
and Mazurkiewicz was therefore in charge. The staff were
delighted at the generosity of the new house surgeon in giving
them leave to visit the fair. No sooner were most of them out
of the way than Mazurkiewicz asked for the records of the
different cases to be brought to him in his study. He went
through them with the assistant, taking notes and making
comments. Presently he came to that of Pilsudski, re
marked that it appeared interesting and decided to visit the
patient.

An attendant took him to the room where Pilsudski was
sitting, sullen and indifferent. Both played their parts to

l8o PILSUDSKI

perfection. The house surgeon was calm and impersonal,
humouring the patient. Pilsudski was sullen and morose.

Mazurkiewicz gave orders that the patient was to be brought
down to his office, and left the room.

Half aipi hour later Pilsudski was led in by an attendant . . .

"I shall have to spend some time examining this man" . . .
said the house surgeon. "You need not wait. I will ring when
I want you."

The next few minutes were tense with drama. Mazurkiewicz
got out the suit of clothes, gave it to Pilsudski who changed
into it. Then the two of them walked out boldly and crossed
the courtyard. The great outer gates were locked, but the
porter recognizing the new house surgeon, unfastened a side
door and let them both out. A droshky was just passing. They
hailed the driver and got into it. The doctor remembered after
wards that while he had been all impatience at the slow speed
of the old horse, Pilsudski was calm and untroubled, talking
of the beauty of the avenue of chestnut trees through which
they were passing and of the scent of spring in the air.

After twice changing their droshky as a means of precau
tion they arrived at the house of a member of the P,P.S. They
stopped there that night and on the next day Pilsudski set
out on his flight. After a fortnight in the country he arrived
in Kiev, where in spite of the danger he remained twenty-four
hours for the Robotnik was being printed there now and he
was aching to set the worn press in motion again. He spent
the whole night working on it and the next day set off for
Galicia.

The next few years were years of storm and struggle. There
were lean times when he lived only on the proceeds of his
journalism and contributed articles to the Cracow newspapers,
whose editors were willing enough to publish them since they
attacked the Russian system and there was no love lost between
Austria and Russia. There were strenuous times when he fled
from one town to another, crossed and recrossed the frontier,
marked down by the authorities as a dangerous revolutionary,
constantly expecting to be rearrested. Only in the friendly
peace of Zakopane could he know any rest. He used to climb
the winding paths up to the tops of the mountains where the

THE WHITE EAGLE l8l

eagles had their nests and look down upon the lake of Czarny
Staw, lying spread out beneath him, with the sun turning its
ripples to shimmering silver . . . "like the mantle of a knight
in armour" ... he used to say. In the silence there he could*
dream and make plans.

One of these dreams was realized in the creation of the
Bojowka, the first resort to arms since the Insurrection of
1863. To him one step along the road which would lead to
Poland s freedom.

That was Joseph Pilsudski s story as he told it to me in
the gardens of Kiev. And when he had come to the end of
it he told me that he loved me, and that he had loved me
since those first days when we worked together at Zakopane.
I remember how surprised I was because he had seemed so
impersonal, only the perfect comrade. But afterwards I learnt
that perfect comradeship is the best of all foundations for love.
In the years that followed we had none of the things which
are considered the essentials for a happy marriage . . . peace,
ease, security, a home. Instead we had unrest and danger,
ceaseless work, and often poverty and hardship. Yet our love
survived them all, survived too in later years the still harder
test of success.

But many years passed before we could know the happiness
of marriage, because Joseph s first wife, from whom he was
separated, refused to divorce him. We had to wait until her
death released him.

CHAPTER XIV

DURING THE years between 1905 and 1912 the Bojowka
waged an incessant guerilla warfare against the Czarist Gov
ernment. Armed demonstrations were carried out all over the
provinces; Government convoys were attacked to provide
funds for the release of Polish political prisoners, the upkeep
of the Military Training Schools and the purchase of arms and
ammunition.

This form of campaign, which the party was forced to
adopt, since at that time it was not strong enough to raise
an open insurrection, has been criticized by Joseph Pilsudski s
enemies both during his lifetime and afterwards. It must, how
ever, always be borne in mind that we considered ourselves at
war with Russia and that we had to wage that war with any
and every means at our disposal. Every operation against the
Government was prompted by a purely political motive and
a scrupulous record was kept of all money which came into
the hands of our organization and of the purpose to which it
was relegated. No one ever made even a fraction of personal
profit from it. (Incidentally, these account books are still in
existence, or were before the German occupation of Warsaw.)

In 1908 there was urgent need of funds to equip the venture
which Casimir Sosnkowski was organizing at Lwow . . .
"The Association of Active Struggle," a group of young men
who would be trained on more advanced military lines. It was
a project near to Pilsudski s heart since it offered the chance
of preparing for the European war which he was convinced
was only a question of time. The money must therefore be
obtained and the best way of obtaining it was to take from
the Russian Government what they had extorted from Poland,
to force them to disgorge at least a portion of the vast sum
that had been amassed by exorbitant taxation and so-called
"fines" which had not even a shadow of justice behind them.
So he planned the hold-up of the mail train at Bezdany on

182

THE WHITE EAGLE 183

September 26th, 1908, the Bojowka s most ambitious attack
on the Russian Government. It was carried out by sixteen
men and four women, of whom I was one. Now the Bezdany
affair has been widely discussed and seldom, if ever, presented
in its true light. Some of those who have written of it have
contented themselves with touching upon it briefly, leaving
the impression that it was a regrettable episode in my husband s
career, which was afterwards redeemed. Others have repre
sented it as an act of banditry ranking with the exploits of
William Tell, or the English Robin Hood. I have often been
amused at the way people have spoken to me of it, with a
rather scandalized admiration. At the back of their minds was
obviously the thought that had Pilsudski not chosen to be a
soldier and a statesman he might have become a highly success
ful gangster.

Actually Joseph Pilsudski and the men of the Bojowka
were neither would-be martyrs nor adventurers. They were
sane and practical people who would have been, in ordinary
circumstances, law-abiding. From a material point of view
they had nothing to gain from their activities against the
Russian Government, and everything to lose. One or two
of them were members of the nobility, several were wealthy
landowners, the rest were men of the professional and work
ing classes . . . doctors, university professors and students,
engineers, artisans and clerks. There was no distinction be
tween them in the party; those who had titles dropped them,
and those who had money pooled it whenever there was need
for it. They all had the same end in view; they all ran the
same risks, death, the Katorga and Siberia. They were called
upon to make frequent sacrifices, to give up their own careers
for the success of the party.

From these men then were drawn all those who took part
in the attack at Bezdany. Their fares and the actual expenses
which they incurred were reimbursed out of the party funds
but that was all. Out of the proceeds of the attack they had
nothing. The 200,000 roubles of which we took possession
that day, money which had been wrung by force from the
Polish people to pay for the extravagant follies of the Imperial
Grand Dukes, went to the purchase of arms and the training

184 PILSUDSKI

of officers who were later to lead the Polish Army to victory.

Bezdany, a little railway station some miles from Wilno,
was the halt for the mail trains on which at certain fixed times
in the year large sums of Government money were transferred
from Russian Poland to St. Petersburg. Certain members of
the Bojowka who had entree into Russian official circles were
able to furnish us with the approximate date of these transfers
and we made our preparations accordingly.

Early in the summer several of us settled in Wilno or the
neighbourhood, travelling there one or two at a time. One
of the men took a cottage on the banks of the river and posed
as an ardent fisherman. Thus he had an excuse not only for
travelling frequently between Bezdany station and Wilno but
for mooring a boat outside his cottage. Madame Hellman,
an old lady whose son was taking part in the attack, and who
was herself an intrepid patriot and the wife of a veteran of
the^ 63, the* 1 installed herself in a small apartment in Wilno
which we used as our headquarters. We were all very fond of
her and she mothered us, particularly Joseph Pilsudski, who
had a special place in her heart. She used to spoil him by
cooking his favourite dishes every time we were invited to
dinner with her, which was often. The remaining women, be
sides myself were Madame Prystor, who had not long been
married and refused to be separated from her husband although
he wished her to remain safely at home, and Madame Kosa-
kiewicz, who was, unfortunately, one of the three people ar
rested after the attack.

We had decided that I would stay in Wilno since Bezdany
was so small a place that the presence of strangers would
cause comment. I travelled down from Kiev in the month of
April taking with me the arms which would be used, revolvers
and dynamite. I carried them in a suitcase which I was careful
not to let out of my own hands. There was no one else in
my compartment, so I put it on the luggage rack just over
my head and settled down to read. Just as the train was start
ing two men got in and sat down opposite me. They had
several pieces of luggage but as we had the carriage to ourselves
there was plenty of space and to my relief there was no need
to move my suitcase,

THE WHITE EAGLE 185

The day was warm and with the motion of the train I grew
more and more drowsy until I fell asleep.

I woke with a start as we drew up at a station to find myself
alone in the compartment. Instinctively I glanced up at the lug
gage rack above me. My suitcase was gone!

My heart missed a beat at the thought that the men who had
sat opposite me must have been secret police agents and that
they had probably followed me on to the train and taken pos
session of my case while I slept. Even now they might be
examining its contents in some other compartment. The train
was still standing at the platform and for a moment I had a
wild impulse to get out and run anywhere so long as it was
out of the station. But then I realized that if my worst sus
picions were true and the men meant to arrest me I should only
be followed and caught a few minutes later. I was slightly re
assured too by the sight of another suitcase on the opposite
rack, larger than mine but of the same colour. Perhaps after
all they had only been ordinary travellers and had made a
genuine mistake.

Just then the attendant walked along the corridor. I called
him in and, speaking as casually as I could, explained what had
happened. . . .

"I know where the two gentlemen are" ... he said help
fully . . . "They asked me to find them seats in a smoking
compartment and I helped to take their luggage along. But you
will have to hurry because they were getting out at this sta
tion. ..."

He grabbed the alien suitcase and sped along the corridor.
I followed him, hoping fervently that we should not be too
late. Perhaps the strangers had by now discovered their mis
take and were already examining my case in the hope of finding
some clue to the owner. And the first thing they would come
upon would be an assortment of revolvers and explosives!

We reached the carriage to find it empty. A glance out
of the window showed me the two men standing on the
platform collecting their suitcases. To my joy I saw my own
among them. I seized the other case from the attendant and
ran for the door. Just then the train gave a lurch and started
to move. It was now or never. Disregarding the attendant s

PILSUDSKI

warning shout, I jumped and by sheer luck made a clear
landing on the platform. A few minutes later I was in pos
session of my own suitcase, with its incriminating contents
still undetected, waiting for the next train to take me to
Wilno.

On my arrival I set out to look for a room. Seeing a card
in a window advertising apartments I went in to investigate
and found that it was the house of a Russian policeman whose
wife let lodgings. The room they showed me though plainly
furnished was clean and airy and I decided to take it partly
because it appealed to my sense of the ridiculous, and also
for the more serious reason that it was the last place in which
any one would think of looking for a revolutionary. The po
liceman was a friendly giant with a bushy black beard and
the Russian s love of gossip. He was full of sympathetic inter
est when I told him that I had come to Wilno to look for work
in an office, and in order to give colour to my role I went
round the next day and got taken on at a library. It was a
rather vague arrangement under which I was to work only
at certain hours during the day, for a very small salary, but
with the understanding that I might read as many books as I
wanted. The owner of the library was a pleasant young woman
who had a great sympathy for revolutionaries.

By the end of July the provisional date for the attack on the
mail train had been fixed and the plan was nearing completion.
Nothing was left to chance. We had all memorized the coun
try around Bezdany so thoroughly, particularly the forest
through which the escape would have to be made after the at
tack, that we could have followed any path blindfold.

It was originally arranged that at the time of the attack,
which was to be made at night, I would be waiting with a boat
on the river and that we would row downstream under cover
of the darkness, but later it was decided that this would be
too risky and that horses would afford an easier means of es
cape. There were winding bridle paths through the forest
which would make pursuit almost impossible, especially if the
men separated. So horses were purchased and stabled with a
veterinary surgeon who was secretly in sympathy with the
party, and a young student of the Polytechnic at Lwow who

THE WHITE EAGLE 187

had recently joined the organization was given the task of
looking after them. Some years later he fought with great gal
lantry in the Legions and finally became a colonel in the Polish
Army.

Among the men who took part in the attack were Colonel
Prystor and Walery Slaweck, both of whom later became
Prime Ministers of Poland, Count Swirski and several work
men, members of the Bojowka. These last were pioneers of the
new type of labouring class which was beginning to arise in
Poland as in other countries, men who were intelligent, capa
ble and responsible. All of them afterwards became officers in
the Polish Army.

Count Swirski, who was a student at the Warsaw Ecole des
Beaux Arts when he joined the Bojowka, was the son of an
ancient Polish family having large estates in the country. His
patriotism was inherited, his Socialism came from his own con
victions. For these two ideals he was willing to sacrifice every
thing. The Bezdany was his first undertaking of any impor
tance in the Bojowka and he paid a terrible price for it, for
he was one of those arrested. He was originally condemned
to death but the sentence was commuted to the Katorga for
life. The tragedy of his arrest was that there was no necessity
for it. He was betrayed.

There was in the Bojowka a young labourer, a man of lim
ited education but of exceptional character. He read widely,
played the violin beautifully, and spent all his spare time in
art galleries. He was sensitive, imaginative, and highly strung,
a sincere patriot and a brave man, but, unfortunately, the
worst type to fall into the hands of the Russian police. After
the Bezdany affair he was arrested and interrogated. He was
given the usual promise of a light sentence provided he would
reveal the names of those associated with him in the attack.
For several days he refused to speak. Then the Chief of Po
lice directed that he should be flogged. Under the ordeal of
the knout he gave way. He disclosed the name of Count
Swirski.

The Count was immediately arrested and confronted
with the man who had accused him, but he did not re
proach him. He, too, was interrogated but without success

l88 PILSUDSKI

although he was several times threatened with torture. In the
end the police realized that there was no hope of securing a
confession from him and gave up the attempt.

The two men were tried. The labourer was sent to Siberia,
Swirski to the Katorga with fetters on his wrists and ankles
and a ten-pound weight of iron attached to his waist.

Years passed. The Great War ended. The Russians re
leased their political prisoners. From Siberia there came back
a stream of men, white-haired, young in face, rather bewil
dered still from having lost touch with the world. Count
Swirski was one of them. He went to Warsaw; found that
Joseph Pilsudski was now Chief of State. Pilsudski made him
his adjutant.

Some years later the labourer too went back to Warsaw.
Unemployment was at its worst in Poland at that time, and
he could not get work of any description. He tried to appeal
for help to the men who had been his comrades in the old
days. They shut their doors in his face. He had done the
one unpardonable thing. Betrayed a member of his party.
There was only one among them who did not condemn him.
The man whom he had wronged. Swirski on hearing of his
misfortunes immediately sent for him and gave him a post on
his own staff.

Walery Slaweck was one of Pilsudski s lieutenants in the
attack on Bezdany but he was unable to remain longer than
a few hours in the neighbourhood on account of the facial dis
figurement which rendered him easy to identify. He had been
an exceptionally handsome man until two years previously
when he had been terribly injured by the accidental explosion
of a bomb. He recovered but grew so morbidly sensitive over
his appearance that he shunned all contact with his former
friends and shut himself up in his house, morose, a prey to
despair. He had lost all interest in life when Joseph Pilsudski,
with his unfailing instinct for touching the right chord in
people, told him of his plans of Bezdany and said how much
he needed his help in carrying them out. Slaweck answered
the appeal at once and the difficulty and danger of the project
before him called up aU his reserves of courage. He returned
to work in the party, developed great skill in organization

THE WHITE EAGLE 189

and later played a prominent role in the reconstruction of the
new Polish state.

Pilsudski, who always made his plans calmly and dispas
sionately, organized the Bezdany affair with the attention to
detail which he gave later to his big military campaigns. He
led it in person and he was under no illusions as to the penalty
of failure. A few hours before it he wrote the following letter
to his friend Perl . . .

"My dear friend,

"Some time ago you promised to write my obituary when
the Devil takes me.

"Now when I am starting on an expedition from
which I may not return, I am sending you these few
words for the obituary, with a little prayer. Of course, I
am not going to dictate to you what you should write
about my life and work. Oh, no! I leave you a free hand.
I only ask of you not to make of me a wfriner or senti
mentalist. In other words, a self-sacrificing martyr who
has allowed himself to be nailed to the cross for love of
humanity or some such humbug. I used to be somewhat
like that, but only in the days of my proud youth. Not
now, however. That is over irrevocably. These whin-
ings and this desire for the self-sacrifice have grown in
sufferable to me. I have seen too much of it in our ^in
tellectuals helpless and hopeless as they are. I fight and
I am ready to die simply because I cannot bear to live
in this latrine which is what our life amounts to. It is in
sulting to a man with a dignity above that of a slave! Let
others play at throwing bouquets to Socialism or Polonism
or anything they like in this atmosphere of a latrine (not
even of a water-closet!) I can t. This is not sentimental
ity on my part, nor whining, nor clap-trap about social
evolution, or anything of that sort. It is simply being a man.
I want to conquer, and without a fight, and a fight with
the gloves off. I am not even a wrestler but an animal sub
mitting to knout or stick. I hope you understand me. It is
not despair, not self-sacrifice that guides me, but the will
to conquer.

190 PILSUDSKI

"My latest idea, which I have not yet fully developed,
is to create in all parties, and most of all in our own an
organization of physical force, of brute force, to use an ex
pression which is insupportable to the ears of humanitarians.
It has been my intention to carry out this idea during the
last few years and I have promised myself to realize it or
perish. I have already done much towards its fulfilment but
not enough to be able to rest on my laurels. So now I am
staking everything on this last card.

"Just a few words more. You know that my only hesi
tation is that I may die in this expropriation and I want
to explain why I am leading it myself. First for sentimen
tality. I have sent so many men to the gallows that if I too
perish it will give these unknown and obscure heroes a cer
tain natural moral satisfaction that their leader had not
despised their work and has not regarded them merely as
tools to do the dirty work while he reserved nobler tasks
for himself. That is one reason. The other is the dire neces
sity. Money! May the Devil take it! How I despise it! I
prefer to win it in a fight than to beg for it from the Polish
public which has become infantile through being chicken-
hearted. I haven t. I haven t got money and I must have it
for the ends which I pursue. What I want, I who have
been called The Knight of Socialism, who after all have
been of some little service to the cause of national culture,
is to stress, in my own person, this very bitter truth that
in a nation which does not know how to fight for itself,
which withdraws every time some one strikes it in the face,
men must die even in actions which are not lofty, beautiful
or great.

"Well, that is all. And now good-bye, my boy, to you
and to all of you my old comrades with whom I have
dreamt so much, lived through still more, and loved so
well.

"Yours and theirs,
"Ziuk."

On Friday, September i8th, eight days before the attack,
we held a counsel of war at Madame Hellman s little apart-

THE WHITE EAGLE 19!

ment in Wilno. The preparations had taken longer than we
expected and some of the men who had been obliged to leave
their work were coming to the end of their resources. Joseph
Pilsudski suggested that we should pool our money, and set
the example by emptying out the contents of his pocket.
When every one else had done the same he divided the small
pile of roubles into equal shares, taking nothing himself and
giving nothing to me. Wilno was his home town and he had
friends with whom he could stay, while I had a gold watch
which I could sell.

On the evening of September z6th, six of the men, including
Slaweck, travelled on the mail train. They were to deal with
the soldiers and police who would be guarding the postal
wagon. In the meantime the rest arrived at the quiet little way
side station singly or in pairs. One of them was apparently
absorbed in a flirtation with a Jewish girl, another sprawled
over a bench pretending to be uproariously drunk. Pilsudski
and Prystor got ready petards to create a smoke screen. Sa-
wicki, another member of the party, who afterwards held the
rank of Colonel in the Polish Army, was outside the station
with a carriage and horses. I and the other women waited in a
cottage on the edge of the forest.

As soon as the train drew into the station the attackers
surrounded it. There was one sharp exchange of fire in which
a soldier was killed and five wounded but the police and
military escort on the train were so taken by surprise that
Slaweck and his men disarmed them before they even realized
what was happening. Those who did not take flight were
ordered into the station with the railway employees and the
passengers. There three of Pilsudski s men mounted guard over
them with their revolvers while a fourth blocked the signals,
and cut the telephone and telegraph wires. While this was
being done, Pilsudski and Prystor burst into the mail wagon,
dynamited the iron coffers and took possession of the bank
notes. They stuffed them into mailbags and sacks, filling as
many as they could before the sound of other trains approach
ing in the distance warned them that they had barely time to
escape. Then they fled to the carriage and Sawicki whipped
up his horses. After a long and perilous drive in the darkness

192 PILSUDSKI

through unfrequented tracks and by-roads of the forest they
arrived at the cottage where we were waiting.

It had been decided that immediately after the attack we
would disperse in different directions. So Slaweck and two
others travelled by an indirect route to Cracow; Luce-Birk,
a young engineer, and the three or four men from the Warsaw
branch took a small rowing-boat and rowed down the river to
Riga. Pilsudski and I, after remaining in the neighbourhood
for a day or two, took the train to Kiev. These separate de
partures had to be made calmly and openly under the very
eyes of the police, for we knew that once the hue-and-cry had
been raised there would be guards at every station and patrols
all along the road. Any appearance of undue haste would only
draw suspicion on us. The disposal of the money was another
problem. Some of it was to be taken straight to the Central
Committee to be spent on bribes to secure the release of mem
bers of the party who were in prison under sentence of death.
The rest was to be left in the neighbourhood until such time
as it could be moved in safety. Joseph Pilsudski and I and an
other member of the party buried it in the forest next day.
We were afraid to trust it all to one place and dug several
holes, making some sort of landmark near each one so that we
should know where to look for it again.

Pilsudski tied up the sacks of silver with firm fingers and
shovelled the earth over them. . . .

"It must be a lot of money," I said. "They are so heavy."

"It is not money" ... he answered slowly. . . . "It is the
books on tactics and the guns that will give us power. It is
the freedom of those who are slaves now, and the country that
our children will inherit. . . ."

The next day we went to Kiev. Before we left we divided
the money which had not been buried into two parts. One of
these was taken by Prystor into Russia, where the notes could
more easily be changed. The other Joseph Pilsudski and I
were to take to Kiev. We hid the banknotes and the packets
of roubles in our clothing, devoutly hoping that we would not
be searched at the station. In case we were we had our remedy
with us. A dose of cyanide of potassium. Death would have
been a hundred times preferable to the sort of punishment the

THE WHITE EAGLE 193

Russian Government would have given us. I could almost hear
the beating of my heart when we walked on to the station, but
looking at Joseph Pilsudski I saw that he was perfectly calm.
There was not a shadow of emotion on his face as we passed
through the barrier. All around us we heard people talking of
Bezdany; the station was full of soldiers and police. Every few
minutes a police officer would pick out at random some man
or woman in the crowds of travellers and give orders for them
to be searched. We fully expected to be stopped but fortu
nately no one took any notice of us, and we reached our des
tination without misadventure.

Two months later I returned to Bezdany to recover the
buried money. I broke my journey at SuvalM so that I could
see Aunt Maria, who had been ill. It was strange to find myself
back in the little town again for so many things had happened
since I had left it. It looked just as I remembered it. There
were the same ruts in the main street. The crystal cross over
the Russian Church still sparkled in the pale November sun
shine.

Aunt Maria seemed much older but she was as thoughtful
and affectionate as ever, ordering my favourite dishes, worry
ing whether my underclothes were warm enough, and wanting
to hear all that I had done since she had last seen me. She was
distressed when I told her about Bezdany, not that she disap
proved of the attack ... she was too firm a patriot to con
demn any action against the Russian Government . . . but
because she feared that I might grow unfeminine. . . . "Leave
things like that to the men," she urged. "You have your pro
fession and you can earn money and give it to the party to
help in the fight. The other way is unladylike. . . ."

She was quite unhappy over it until I thought of a way
to set her mind at rest. . . . "You know very well that
Grandmother would have done it when she was younger," I
said.

She digested the words for a moment and then a smile broke
over her face. . . "Yes, I suppose she would," she said with
a little sigh of relief. The argument had ended, as every argu
ment had ended for her all through her life, with Grand
mother having the last word.

PILSUDSKI

She was quite comforted and gave me her blessing when I
went on to Bezdany the next morning. I never saw her again,
for she died suddenly a few weeks afterwards.

I took the train to Wilno, where I was met by Joseph Pil-
sudski s brother, who warned me that the police were looking
for me. So avoiding the vicinity of Bezdany I went by another
route to a village at some little distance where a certain Ma
dame A., who was a member of the party, had a farm. When I
explained the reason of my return to Bezdany she at once
agreed to help me and suggested that she should drive me to
the forest. We then got into communication with Sawicki.
The next morning the three of us set out in a rickety trap
drawn by an old and decrepit horse. Under the rugs we hid
a spade and a big suitcase which was to contain the money.

It was a twenty-mile drive to the forest and it took us the
whole day to get there, for the horse was in such wretched
condition that we had to walk most of the way. When at
length we reached our goal the November evening had already
closed in. We tethered the horse to a tree and began to grope
our way down the silent avenues. After some difficulty we
found the right place and began our digging operations. The
earth was frozen so hard that it was almost impossible to get
our spades into it. When after working till the perspiration
streamed down our faces we succeeded in laying bare the holes,
we had to grope for the bags of roubles in the dark, for we
did not dare to show a light. After two hours we had only un
earthed about two-thirds of the money and Madame A. and
I were so exhausted that we could not go on digging. Sawicki
suggested that we should drive home with the money we
had recovered and leave him to spend the night at a peas
ant s cottage, return to the digging next morning and follow
us later in the day with the remainder. So we packed the
heavy bags of silver into the suitcase and started on the home
ward journey. At the end of the first mile the poor old horse
was almost dropping between the shafts and we realized that
our only chance of getting home at all was to walk. So we
trudged beside it all through the night along the dark and
lonely road over the plain, buffeted by the cold east wind and
so tired that we could scarcely drag our feet along. I remember

THE WHITE EAGLE

that just before dawn I realized to my horror that I was get
ting hallucinations. I clutched Madame A. s arm and pointed
out to her an imaginary pack of wolf hounds sweeping down
on us. She, of course, assured me that there was nothing
though she was in reality terrified, thinking that my brain had
given way. Her quiet voice dispelled the vision of the hounds
and a moment later I was laughing at myself, but that and
other similar delusions kept returning to me before we arrived
home. For many years afterwards I worried over that queer
experience and never liked to speak of it to any one, fearing
that it might be a prelude to madness. Then by chance I met a
famous mental specialist who told me that such hallucinations,
coming from extreme fatigue, are by no means rare.

We were some two miles from Madame A. s house when
the horse fell down and as we could not possibly get it on its
feet again we were obliged to leave it lying there until we
arrived home and could send help. Fortunately it recovered
from its adventures. But I shall never forget that last lap of
the road when we stumbled along, carrying the heavy suit
case between us, too tired even to speak. We did not reach
home until 8 A.M.

The next day Sawicki joined us, bringing the rest of the
silver. To my great relief he undertook to travel to Cracow
with all the money and deliver it over to the Central Com
mittee. It meant that he had to run the gauntlet of several
police barriers, but he was successful.

CHAPTER XV

DESPITE THE success of Bezdany, the year 1908 ended in dis
couragement and setback. The Bojowka was broken up; nearly
all its members were in prison or in flight across the Austrian
frontier. It was obvious that the struggle against the Russian
Government was too unequal to continue.

The Polish horizon had never seemed more darkly overcast.
The revolution which had fostered the brief illusion of a
united nation shaking off its fetters had failed. The fight for
independence had been lost once again; the fight for Socialism
had only resulted in a stalemate. What little improvement in
working conditions had been achieved by the strikes had been
countered by a series of lock-outs.

In the Prussian-ruled provinces of Poland the iron hand of
Von Biilow was tightening its grip. Alarmed at the increasing
Polish population, he adopted a new policy which was, he
explained, designed "to protect, maintain and strengthen the
German nationality among the Poles; in fact, to fight for the
German nationality." ... So in the spring of 1908 his Ex
propriation Bill came into force, authorizing the forcible dis
possession of estates owned by Poles and their transfer to Ger
man settlers. Thousands of Poles were turned out of their
farms and holdings, left to tramp the roads, homeless and pen
niless, or seek work at starvation wages from German masters
in the industrial cities. There were shocked protests in the
Press of many countries, but trouble was seething in the Bal
kans and Europe had other things to think of. The plight of
the Kaiser s Polish subjects was soon forgotten.

In Russian Poland the Party of National Democracy, un-
der Roman Dmowski, was in the ascendancy, pursuing its pol
icy of conciliation with Russia, sending its representatives to
the Duma to advocate a united Slav front against the ever-
increasing menace of Germany. The masses drifted uncer
tainly in its wake. A dreary fatalism spread over the country.

196

THE WHITE EAGLE 197

Only Pilsudski s voice was raised urging resistance, pleading
the need for an armed force. ... "I wanted Poland who
had forgotten the sword so completely since 63 to see it
flashing in the air in the hands of her own soldiers," he wrote
later. It was his ceaseless prayer. It met with varying re
sponse. . . .

"I am working now for two things/ he wrote to a
friend in 1908. "First, to raise enough money to con
stitute a capital for the future. Secondly, to extend what
I call this Military Propaganda. I was afraid in the begin
ning that the bare suggestion would appear ridiculous but
to my great surprise I have found many ready to listen to
me. If I can succeed in creating a new current of thought
and awakening the interest of the youth of the nation I shall
be more than satisfied. I have at least taken a step in that
direction." . . .

The "step" was the new-born Association for Active Strug
gle which had been established by Sosnkowski at Lwow. At
its first meeting in June 1908 it was decided that ... (a) it
was to operate in Galicia as the most suitable place; (b) its
purpose was the preparation of a future legion of insurrec
tionary soldiers trained in accordance with military discipline.

There was violent opposition to the project from a large
section of the party, and Pilsudski, who supported it with has
usual dynamic energy, lost the sympathy of all the older
members, one and all of whom pronounced the scheme as
madness. I remember him pacing up and down the floor, as
he always did in moments of crisis, smoking cigarette after
cigarette, in a fury of impatience at what he described as "this
dead weight of years and caution." The entire youth of the
party stood solidly behind him. He had faith in their judg
ment. . . . "The so-called youthful hot-headedness is far less
dangerous in leadership than the timorous indecision of old
age," he used to say, . . . "Experience is no asset to a man
if it means that he keeps his eyes on the past instead of towards
the future. . . ."

So he resisted the attempts of the greybeards to throw cold
water on his scheme. . . .

198 PILSUDSKI

"Some of my comrades came to see me yesterday," he
wrote in one of his letters to me. "We discussed many
things, principally of course this question of the Association.
I am in despair. Imagine. On one side I have the young who
believe in me, but who have need to lean on older men with
experience and judgment. On the other side I have the older
men whose point of view goes only as far as what has been
done before. New questions, new ways and new opinions
are to them a closed book. When they feel this new current
of thought beating upon them they make no eff ort to adapt
themselves to it."

The older men carried the day with the Central Committee
of the P.P.S. and attempted to put an effective spoke in his
wheel by refusing to make any grant from the party funds for
the organization. It was a hard blow for the whole scheme was
threatened with collapse, but he was not defeated. . . . "Very
well. We shall have to begin without arms," he said. "We
can buy them later. We will make a fund of our own. . . ."

So die rich sold their shares, university students went
without cigarettes, and the young farm labourers gave up their
pocket money to buy books on military tactics. Pilsudski
took over the organization into his own hands. It was a task
after his heart. At least he could put to practical test the
military science which he had studied for years. Hundreds of
volunteers joined the movement within the first eighteen
months. He drilled them in backyards and in orchards, when
he could do so without interruption, instructed them, as far as
the limited space permitted, in manoeuvres and in the use of
the few out-dated rifles and revolvers which represented the
entire resources of the Association. The townspeople of Lwow
got wind of the "secret army" and came to stare and laugh at
the rows of earnest young men, bank clerks and shop assistants,
factory hands, students and peasants, who paraded after work
on summer evenings and Sunday afternoons. Pilsudski came
in for a great deal of ridicule, but it made no impression on
him.

At the end of two years the number of the organization
had swelled from hundreds to thousands, and the isolated

THE WHITE EAGLE 199

groups of raw recruits had given place to well-drilled and
efficient companies who assembled in the fields outside the
city to go through the regulation military exercises and ma
noeuvres of the Austrian infantry. The older section of the
P.P.S. had given way before the success of the scheme and
one after another of them had gone over to Pilsudski s stand
ard, until they were backing him as unitedly as they had for
merly opposed him. But now a fresh obstacle had to be faced.
The Austrian authorities suddenly awoke to the fact that the
Association was something more than a group of impetuous
young Poles playing at soldiers and their tolerant amusement
changed to suspicion. Pilsudski was sent for by the Chief of
Police and asked for explanations. The interview began on a
hostile note, turned to a discussion on military history, in
which both men were absorbingly interested, and ended with
a promise that the Association should not only continue its
activities but that it should be legalized and officially recog
nized by the Austrian Government.

It was an important step for the scope of the organization
was widely increased. Its name was changed to the Strzelcy
(Union of Riflemen). Branches were formed at Cracow, in
Russian Poland and even outside the country, in Paris, Geneva,
Liege, Brussels and other European cities where there were
Polish colonies. The program of instruction was amplified.
Pilsudski instituted special courses at the Cracow School of
Economics and Social Sciences, and gave lectures on tactics,
military history and the technique of warfare; summer camps
were formed, and classes held for the training of officers and
N.C.O. s. A few Polish officers on the Austrian General Staff
began to take an interest in the organization, and even in
Russian Poland the scheme gained support, though necessarily
in the strictest secrecy. I shall always remember Pilsudski s
joy when two Polish officers holding high rank in the Russian
army, sought him out when they were on leave in Cracow and
offered their aid.

His success encouraged others. The military spirit which
he had long dreamt of awakening began to stir through Aus
trian Poland. More and more young men of all classes started
drilling and studying tactics. The Conservative youth, not

200 PILSUDSKI

to be outdone by the Socialists, launched their own organiza
tion, the Druzyny Strzeleckie. These two forces of the Left
and Right were later to drop their political differences and
merge into the Polish Legions.

In the meantime the Austrian Government was not the only
one which was taking an interest in Pilsudski s activities. Ru
mour of them had already penetrated to St. Petersburg, where
the Minister of Foreign Affairs warned the Minister of Home
Affairs that according to reports received from his Ambassa
dor in Vienna an impudent Pole had had the audacity to form
in Galicia an armed force with the avowed purpose of pre
paring for an insurrection in Russian Poland. After the months
of delay incidental to any Russian departmental action the
Minister of Home Affairs wrote in his turn to a Russian official
in Poland communicating to him the information he had re
ceived and asking whether he could throw any light on the
subject. , . . "The political centre of the Polish question is
not now in Russian Poland" . . . replied the official . . . "it
is in Galicia. In Russian Poland there is complete calm; in
Galicia a whirlwind. There, openly and in perfect security,
armed detachments are being organized under the command
of our Pilsudski, whom we so light-heartedly suffered to es
cape from prison. . . ."

He was right. "The Polish question" had indeed passed
into Galicia.

Pilsudski s dream had at last been realized. He had his mil
itary force, a force of nearly 15,000 men, divided into local
groups extending over the great part of Austrian Poland. It
was not merely sanctioned by the Government but actually
encouraged, for Austria s policy at that date was one of con
ciliation with the Poles. For a period of several years her re
lations with Russia had been growing increasingly strained.
The clash of their interests in the Balkans, resulting in the
Bosnian crisis of 1908, had cast over Europe the shadow of
the forthcoming war. It served her purpose then to extend
her patronage to this embryo Polish force, whose co-operation
might prove of use.

THE WHITE EAGLE 2OI

So the Riflemen trained in the open instead of in secret, and
with a show of generosity the Government presented them
with a stock of obsolete rifles discarded by the Austrian regu
lar troops. As the proportion was an average of one to twenty
men their distribution among the different companies was
something of a problem. Yet many of these same ancient rifles
played their part in routing the Czar s picked troops.

One of my most vivid memories of my husband is of his
holding the first .parade of his Riflemen outside the House of
Parliament in Lwow. He stood on the flight of steps leading
up to the building to take the salute as they marched past
him, several hundreds of them. Only the officers were in uni
form, the simple blue tunic and trousers afterwards adopted
by the Legion, for shortage of money had made it impossible
to equip the ranks, but they all wore their new Maciejowka
caps and swung past with a fine military bearing. In later
years when Poland was free I saw many parades of Polish
troops, but I always remember that first march past and
the pride and joy in the eyes of Joseph Pilsudski as he
watched it.

Those pre-war years were crowded for him with lectures
and reviews of his troops, with the organization of new
branches and the study of military tactics and history. With the
changed conditions other qualities in his character came to
the surface. He was no longer the revolutionary in flight from
the police, but the commander-in-chief of an army, even
though that army was an irregular one. He developed the ca
pacity for leadership and for overcoming obstacles by that in
flexible will which carried him through so many crises. He
worked incessantly, often allowing himself only three or four
hours* sleep in a night. Even his short summer vacations were
given up to organizing the military schools and camps. His
heart gave him trouble more than once, and frequent attacks of
asthma worried him. He was always afraid of dying before
Poland was free. . . . "If I could only be sure of living an
other three years!!!" he used to say . . . "or perhaps even five.
I think that by that time I may have done something. . . ."
And he was always glad when the cold winter months were
over. He was at his best in the mountains at Zakopane, and

202 PILSUDSKI

much of his writing was done there. I have still letters which he
sent me telling me of his work. In one of them he writes . . .

"I have been interrupted in my scribbling because of
dinner. The windows are open and the fresh cool wind of
the autumn is blowing over me. The mountains in the dis
tance are thickly covered with snow. That is the picture
which lies in front of me. The table is littered with maps
and books and scraps of paper, some of it covered with
writing; the rest blank. In fact it is in its usual perfect order.
And if you must know it, you who are the very soul of
order, I very much like this disorder of my table. I do not
pretend to be tidy, and on the very rare occasions when I
make the effort to be I find that the most necessary things
have hidden themselves away whilst other quite unneces
sary things are in a prominent place. Perhaps this disorder
with which I am surrounded is an outward sign of the dis
order within my own mind. For instance, this passion of
mine for working in fragments, without any method in
what I do, concentrating on the things which interest me
heart and soul. Here is an example. Instead of having prac
tically finished this work (the preface to his book on Mil
itary Tactics), if I work at all I study the different phases
of the battle under Mukden and examine the maps of Poland
and Lithuania, tracing with my finger across the new rail
ways and roads, and imagining what I should do if Poland
were free and I had been asked to undertake the strategic
defence of the frontiers. A nice amusement, isn t it, for a
man as much of a realist as I?

"I have started on something else, the review of a mil
itary book. It is work which I detest and although I have
as yet done only the introductory chapters I have found
so many deficiencies ... all of which I must explain
or point out . . . that I have grown sick of it and put
it aside. As for Langiewicz (the Dictator of 1863) I have
decided to write this during the holidays. I am afraid of
the subject although I have studied it for so long. But
lecturing on a subject is one thing, and writing of it is
another. I feel that I am not fully prepared, that I have

THE WHITE EAGLE 203

too little material at hand. Yet I want to finish my military
history of 63 with a monograph on the dictatorship of
Langiewicz. So you see how overwhelmed with work I
am, work that is not yet finished and work which is only
just begun. And then you must add to it all the work
which I must undertake for the organization and lectures
to the Riflemen after the holidays. You can imagine that
my time is fully occupied. . . ."

There were moments of acute discouragement, when the
walls of prejudice seemed unsurmountable and he was op
pressed by the sense of failure. He still maintained contact
with many of his former friends in the P.P.S. but their uncom
promising attitude was a bar to any real exchange of opinion.
After a visit to one of them he wrote to me. . . .

"How much it rests me to be with you or with my boys
(Riflemen), with them I never have to go into futile ar
guments. They are convinced and confident without hav
ing to be shown this and given the formula for that. They
too have perplexities, doubts and uncertainties, but they
have faith that everything is being decided for the best
for them. They are so different from these old politi
cians with their long futile discussions in which one has
to gloss over all irritating questions. It is absolutely mad
dening sometimes" . . .

Then, as in his political life years later, he detested haggling
over details. Accustomed to make his own decisions quickly
and to stand by them he was impatient of vacillation in others.

For me too those years before the outbreak of the European
War were eventful. The greater part of my day was spent
in earning my living as secretary to a big firm in Lwow, but
my hardest work began when I left the office. There was an
enormous amount of correspondence, propaganda and keep
ing of accounts in connection with the Strzelcy organization
and most of this was done by me. I was also responsible for
the maintenance of the library of books on military tactics
and history. This began as a small collection occupying a
couple of shelves in my wardrobe but before very long it had

204 PILSUDSKI

reached a total of hundreds of volumes and had to be trans
ferred to an office which we opened in the city. In addition
to the usual routine of the library I had to supplement the
stock from time to time. There were practically no works on
strategy or any branch of military science published in the
Polish language and therefore we had to fall back on those
in Russian. As the majority of the members of the Strzelcy,
who were Galician Poles, knew little or no Russian I had to
prepare translations. I used to sit up hour after hour at night
poring over technical terms and diagrams until I fell asleep.
After a while I became quite an expert and used to translate
not only from Russian but from French and German as well.

I had plenty of work to do in connection with a scheme
which we called "The Prisoners Aid Society," which was not
quite what its name probably suggests to English and Ameri
can readers. We were not a charitable organization concerned
with the welfare of ex-prisoners but a much more lawless in
stitution, supplying not offers of employment and good advice
but files for cutting through iron bars, false passports and
plans of escape. We dealt, of course, only with political pris
oners whose crimes ranged from being in possession of banned
literature to persistent agitation against the Government
and smuggling arms, but as every jail in Russia had its quota
of these we had a long list of cases. The headquarters of
the Society recorded every arrest and a visitor was sent to
the prison to get in touch with the prisoner and smuggle in
letters or messages. In cases where a long exile in Siberia
was anticipated and an escape seemed feasible, the society
would call upon its members, every one of whom was pledged
to furnish the utmost aid in his or her power, and make all
arrangements. Escapes planned and carefully organized in
this way had naturally a much better chance of success than
isolated attempts.

In 1912 I began to take a more active part in the organiza
tion of the Strzelcy.

Pilsudski had always promised that when he succeeded in
creating his military force he would include a companion or
ganization for women. The feminist movement was beginning
to spread through Europe. In England the Suffragettes were

THE WHITE EAGLE 205

chaining themselves to benches in the House of Commons and
setting fire to country mansions in an endeavour to gain the
vote; feminist groups were being formed in France. But at
that time only Socialism had* accorded any real measure of
freedom to women. The program of the Socialist parties in
Poland and Russia had stressed the equality of the sexes in
work and in working conditions.

The Strzelcy being largely a Socialist organization must in
clude a women s section. It came into existence in 1912 as a
small offshoot of the main League, but it played an important
-role during the war for it carried on most of the Intelligence
Service of the Legions.

I was at the head of a section of the women s branch. Pil-
sudski drew up our program and arranged that our training
should be as comprehensive in our own sphere as that of the
Riflemen. We were to work in front of and behind the lines,
that is to say that in event of war or insurrection we were to
take over the Intelligence Section and also all clerical work,
cooking, first aid, etc., so that every man could be released for
the actual fighting.

As a preliminary step we attended the lectures on military-
tactics which were given to the Riflemen by Pilsudski, for it
was considered necessary that we should learn something of
the defence of cities and also know enough of the technique
of war to be able to furnish useful information of troop
movements and enemy concentration. We made a special
study of the Russian Army and familiarized ourselves with
the organization and characteristics of every regiment. All of
us received instruction in signalling and attended regular rifle
and revolver practice. We used to take part in manoeuvres
with the Riflemen and soon grew as proficient as they in the
reading of charts and the planning of campaigns. Since there
was never any intention of utilizing us as a fighting unit these
studies may sound a waste of time and energy; actually, in
view of the roles we were called upon to play later, they
were a vital necessity. More than once important military
operations depended on the accuracy of our observation and
reports.

We were, I believe, the first women s army auxiliary

206 PILSUDSKI

organization to be formed in any country. There were orig
inally some sixty of us in Lwow alone, women of all types
. . . students, shop girls, school teachers and clerks . . . and
of all ages. One I remember was an old lady of over sixty,
who was enrolled in the organization rather as an acknowl
edgment of her patriotism than for any other reason. No one
expected her to take any active part in the work, but she
became so absorbed in the study of military tactics that she
borrowed every book we possessed on the subject. During
the war she was able to supply valuable information to our
headquarters, for the Russians, not suspecting so aged and ap
parently harmless a woman, let her go about freely in their
lines selling fruit and vegetables.

The whole framework of this Intelligence Section, which
was to collaborate later with the Army, was built up long be
fore the war became a certainty. I and the other woman en
gaged in it were assigned the task of collecting information
relating to the different towns and country districts, compiling
lists of those who could be counted upon in the event of war
or insurrection, and the different types of service which each
could be expected to render. Some would offer shelter and
hospitality, others horses, many would undertake to convey
letters and act as couriers between one town and the next.
Then in addition to this we made careful surveys of the various
localities, noted the disposition of the railway lines, the state
of the roads and facilities for moving troops, etc. All these
records, which were set down in code, were kept at the Central
Office of the Strzelcy in Lwow. Later they were put to good
use in the war.

During those years all my spare time was spent in travelling
up and down the country. The building company was generous
in the matter of holidays and fete days, and I was able to
cover a surprising amount of ground. I had some curious ad
ventures and only narrowly escaped arrest on several occa
sions.

I shall always remember a journey to Wilno in 1911 when
I was one of the delegates to the P.P.S. (Revolutionary Frac
tion) Congress which was being held there. Although it was
the month of April there had been an exceptionally heavy

THE WHITE EAGLE 2OJ

fall of snow and all the trains were held up. We had to wait
hours at some of the junctions. When we arrived eventually
at Wilno I saw police agents posted all over the station. They
had evidently got wind of the Congress and intended to arrest
as many members of the party as they could. My first thought
was one of profound relief that Pilsudski had decided at the
last moment not to run the gauntlet of the Russian frontier
and had remained behind in Lwow. My second was to wonder
whether I had already been noticed. I feared so. To make sure
on this point I went into the station telegraph office, took a
postcard out of my bag and began to write on it. At once a
man who had followed me unobtrusively into the office came
up behind me and began reading it over my shoulder. Having
had my doubts thus confirmed I could only try to evolve some
plan of escape. I walked out of the office as nonchalantly as
I could, bought a newspaper and went into the station waiting-
room. There I sat for the best part of an hour, apparently
reading, in reality wondering what to do. It was out of the
question, I realized, for me to go to the little hotel where I
was expected. I should only be followed and arrested, and in
all probability other delegates to the Congress would be stay
ing there and would share my fate.

Finally I decided to go to another hotel, where I had not
stayed before, and from there to get into touch with friends
who would convey a warning to other members of the party.

I got into a carriage, told the driver to take me to a good
hotel and on arriving there engaged a room. I remained up
stairs for a while, fully expecting to hear a knock at my door,
but there was none and as everything seemed quiet I went
out into the street again and walked to the house of a friend
who was also a member of the party. There I heard that nearly
all the delegates from the Strzelcy had been arrested and a
number of other members of the P.P.S. with them. The Con
gress had been cancelled. All I could do, therefore, was to
return to Galicia. But it was not going to be so easy. By some
stroke of good luck I had given the slip to the agent at the
railway station. I did not care for the prospect of facing them
again so soon, so I decided that I would remain in Wilno for
at least that night.

2 o8 PILSUDSKI

It was about 5 P.M. when I returned to the hotel to be ac
costed at the entrance by the proprietor who asked me, with
profuse apologies, to take round my passport to the police
station. It was a new regulation, he explained. Previously he
had been accustomed to attend to all registration formalities
for his guests, but now no visitors might remain in the city
unless they had received an official permit for which they must
apply in person.

That settled the question. I must leave Wilno before night
fall. I decided to go to Minsk where I was unknown to the
police. There I might be able to get a permit authorizing me
to cross the frontier into Galicia.

It was late when I arrived at the railway station and I blessed
the laziness of the Russian authorities. The army of agents
had disappeared. The one sleepy-eyed policeman on duty took
no notice of me or any of the other passengers.

Once safely ensconced in the train I could apply my mind
to the problem of crossing the Galician frontier. I should have
to find a suitable pretext for getting the necessary permit, and
if the police were in a suspicious mood, which seemed more
than probable, they would need a good deal of convincing. I
was no nearer a solution when the train drew up at a station.

A fat woman with a lot of parcels got into my compartment.
She was seen off by a friend who stood on the platform shout
ing through the window the vague, disjointed remarks people
always exchange in farewell moments . . . "Now don t forget
to write" . . , said the woman on the platform for at least
the sixth time. ...

"No, I shan t" . . . rejoined the other . . . "And I will
send you some smoked ham when I get to Minsk. You know
it is celebrated. I have heard they supply to all the best Rus

sian restaurants"

Of course! Inspiration had come to me. On arriving in
Minsk I went straight to a hotel and slept soundly. Early
the next morning I made a tour of all the factories which
turned out smoked hams and tongues, and salted pork and
sausages of every description, collecting from each samples of
its specialities. Then I bought a bag of the type favoured by
travelling salesmen and arranged my packages inside it. Armed

THE WHITE EAGLE 2Op

with this I went to the police station, where I gave another
name and address and asked for a permit to cross the frontier
into Galicia. As I expected, I was asked my reason. I opened
my bag and displayed the tempting array explaining that I
was travelling in smoked meats and hoped to establish a con
nection in Galicia. . . .

"I shouldn t think you will have any difficulty in doing
that" . . . said the police inspector sniffing appreciatively . . .
"Those sausages look good."

"They taste better still" . . . I said . . . "Try one and

see."

He took one and munched it with relish while he signed all
the necessary papers without even a question.

I walked out of the police station with an imposing permit
authorizing me to leave the realm of His Imperial Majesty the
Czar of Russia for the purpose of transacting my lawful busi
ness in Galicia. But even so I did not dare to risk crossing
the frontier at one of the main stations for fear of being rec
ognized, in spite of my assumed name and passport by the
police on duty there. So I decided to cross at a tiny frontier
post in the heart of the country. The only means of getting
there was in a hired carriage drawn by two horses, which took
hours to cover thirty odd miles along roads which were
frozen at some stages and knee-deep in snow at others. Several
times the horses could scarcely keep their feet and I and the
old coachman had to get down and lead them. It was nearly
midnight when we reached the station and by that time I was
so cold that my teeth were chattering in my head and so
stiff that I could hardly walk.

Several other travellers were already there and the police
officers in charge began to examine passports an^^rmits,
calling out the names of the owners in turn. The sudden con
trast of the warmth of the station after the bitter cold of the
drive made me sleepy, and I sat in the row with the rest of
the people half dozing not noticing what was going on until
suddenly I heard the policeman shouting loudly and saw that
he was trying to attract my attention. He was asking me my
name and to my horror I realized that I had quite forgotten
the one on my passport!

210 PILSUDSKI

There was a dreadful moment of silence while every one
looked at me in surprise. Still I could not remember. Then
the man shouted again . . . "Don t you know your own
name?"

With disaster staring me in the face I made a desperate
effort. The mists of fatigue cleared from my brain. I managed
to remember my assumed surname, which apparently satisfied
him for he stamped my permit without a word.

A few minutes later I had crossed the frontier into friendly
Galician territory.

CHAPTER XVI

IN THE spring of 1914 Joseph Pilsudski stated in a lecture to
the Geographical Society in Paris . . .

"The problem of the independence of Poland will only
be solved when Russia is beaten by Germany and Germany
by France. It is our duty to lend our help for that aim;
otherwise we shall have to pursue a very long, very hard
and almost desperate struggle. . . ."

Months before the assassination of the Archduke Franz
Ferdinand at Sarajevo had set a match to the conflagration
which was to spread throughout Europe he had foreseen the
outcome of the inevitable war and was coolly and dispassion
ately weighing up the chances of Poland s Partitioning Powers
and laying his plans. He described the situation as "infinitely
rich in possibilities." ...

"The war will have unexpected results" ... he predicted
. . . "Russia is far weaker than she is supposed to be, a Colos
sus with feet of wax. She will be the first to crumple up under
the blows of the Central Powers. England and France will
eventually beat Germany. Poland s hour of destiny is approach
ing and we must be ready for it." . . .

By mid-July war had become not a possibility but a cer
tainty. He cancelled the summer school at Cracow and instead
prepared to mobilize his troops. In the meantime he took stock
of the position.

He was a realist, uninfluenced by any considerations of
sentiment. The issue of the war meant nothing to him except
in that it concerned the future of the Poles. He was for Poland
alone and Poland owed loyalty neither to Russia, Germany
nor Austria, since all were her enemies. It remained therefore
to decide which of the three was the most likely to prove
amenable. Of the three Partitioning Powers Austria alone had
shown any intention of conciliating her Polish subjects or

211

212 PILSUDSKI

of affording them even a measure of autonomy and liberty of
action. Further she knew her own weakness. She would offer
the best terms for Polish support. He explained his reasoning
in a speech which he delivered at Cracow in 1922. . . .

"I knew that Poland would be the theatre of war, and
that the Partitioning Powers would have much greater power
and authority among my countrymen than I should. But
even at the beginning of the war I calculated that, con
trary to the general opinion of the moment, war would not
only exhaust and weaken the conquered, but would adversely
affect the conqueror also. I knew that none of the Partition
ing Powers thought of Poland, that she was not only not their
object, but on the contrary their obstacle. When I came to
the conclusion that no one wanted to fight over Poland and
that political factors could play no part, I had to calculate on
the hard basis of Do ut des. I could either give soldiers or,
let us use the term, a spy service. I had to say to myself that
I could not provide the latter, because my character made it
impossible, so I decided to give what appeared to be most
difficult in this case, the trained arm of a soldier who must
acquire for himself the title of soldier among his own people
as well as among foreigners, by his hard toil. Then I asked
myself which partition offered the possibility of creating an
armed force which would count when all, both conquerors
and conquered, were weakened under the tyranny of war. At
once I saw that the only country where it was possible to be
gin and carry through such a scheme was Austria. I reckoned
that Germany, with her iron state organization and her mili
tary machine would immediately throw in every one capable
of fighting. Russia was no use; she was too confident in her
own strength and her policy of force in dealing with her
subjects. Austria remained the weakest state, maintaining
herself alive as a type of political tight-rope walker, de
pendent on her subjects, easiest to talk to, even if it was Aus
trian talk. "

The Austrian authorities received the offer of this arrogant
Pole to supply them with an armed legion for use against
Russia with no great enthusiasm. With his usual directness and
scorn of subterfuge, even when the most vital issues were at

THE WHITE EAGLE 213

stake, he made no attempt to disguise his motive. He let it
be apparent that he was acting in the sole interest of Poland
and that he was prepared to make no concessions in the matter
of Polish independence.

"I asked Austria only for arms and would accept no po
litical conditions" . . . he said in describing his negotiations
with the Government ... "I was threatened with the ar
rest of all the Strzelcy organization and with internment for
myself. I would not move from my position and that was
why we had such miserable arms and such miserable equipment.
I did not accept humiliating conditions because I wished to
preserve my moral strength."

The Austrian statesmen were in a dilemma. The Polish
force which was prepared to take the field at the bidding of
this extraordinary man already numbered several thousands,
the nucleus of an army. An independent Polish army might
prove a dangerous asset. On the other hand, no good purpose
could be served by antagonizing the Poles at the very outset
of a war which was obviously going to tax Austria s resources
to the uttermost. The Strzelcy were well-trained and disci
plined in spite of their lack of arms and equipment; their
leader Pilsudski had already gained some renown as the author
of articles on military tactics; with tactful handling he might
gain the support of many Russian Poles. They decided on
a compromise. He obtained a somewhat grudging acceptance
of his offer and a promise of equipment which was the reverse
of generous. It was discouraging but he had hoped for no
more and it gave him at least a basis. He ordered his Riflemen
to mobilize on August 2nd.

They answered the call joyfully. Clerks and University
students cancelled their vocations, peasants left their farms
and workmen their benches. The rival organization of the
Right, the Druzyny Strzeledde (Non-Socialist Youth), on
hearing of the mobilization called a meeting, decided unani
mously to drop their political differences of opinion and put
themselves under Pilsudski s leadership. The two assembled
at Oleandry, outside Cracow, and drew up in lines facing one
another. Then Pilsudski and Burkhardt-Bukacki, leader of
the Druzyny, advanced and exchanged their respective badges.

214 PILSUDSKI

Henceforth there would no longer be two organizations but
only one: The Polish Army. The forbidden White Eagle that
had floated victoriously over many a battlefield in the days
of Poland s greatness was unfurled. Pilsudski addressed the
massed troops.

"Soldiers. You have the great honour of being the first
to enter the Realm and to cross the frontier of the provinces
annexed by Russia, as the head of a column of Polish troops
marching to fight for the deliverance of the country. You are
all equal in the face of the sacrifices which you will be
called upon to make. You are all soldiers. I do not confer any
ranks. I only appoint the most experienced among you to
carry out the duties of leaders. You will win your own pro
motion on the battlefield. Each one of you can become an
officer, and each officer can be reduced to the ranks, which
may God forbid. I look to you as the frame for the future
Polish Army and -I salute in you the first company of that
frame."

They mustered on the first day some four thousand strong,
out of whom 140 men were chosen as officers. Pilsudski had
planned an immediate invasion of Russia, but he had counted
without the dilatoriness of the Austrian Government. He and
his men were forced to hang about for three days waiting for
the promised equipment. When at length it materialized there
were not enough rifles, to arm even half their numbers and
therefore only three companies were able to march.

In the meantime Pilsudski had realized that a Polish army
without a Polish Government behind it would not carry much
weight. He must create a Government. He did so. Within
twelve hours its first proclamation appeared.

"Poles,

"A National Government has been constituted in War
saw. It is the duty of the Polish people to close their ranks
under its authority. The citizen Joseph Pilsudski has been
appointed Commander-in-Chief of the Polish Military Forces
and he must be obeyed.

By Order of the National Government/
Warsaw, August yrd.

THE WHITE EAGLE 215

In the early morning of August 6th, Pilsudski gave the order
to march and the army set out in the direction of the Russian
frontier, preceded by an advance guard composed of the en
tire cavalry, three men on horses and some half-dozen optimists
carrying saddles in preparation for the mounts they were go
ing to capture from the enemy. They found the frontier de
serted; the Russian patrols had retreated.

The three companies of Strzelcy broke down the barriers
and swept into the territory that had once been Poland s,
singing the old insurrectionary songs; the songs that the
army of Kosciuszko had sung. It had been arranged that Pil
sudski would proceed with his force to Jedrzejow where he
would co-operate with Austrian cavalry in the neighbourhood
of Kielce. Franz Joseph s officers, resplendent in their smart
uniforms with centuries of military tradition behind them, had
been contemptuously tolerant of their raw, untidy guerilla
allies when the plan was discussed in Cracow. Yet the Poles
were in Kielce before them, having driven back the Rus
sians on the way . . . "They are great fighters these Polish
troops" . . . reported the Austrian General in Command . . .
"irregular certainly, but one could not wish for better sol
diers. . . ."

It was indeed "irregular," this Polish Army. An army
miserably armed and miserably equipped, without machine-
guns or artillery, without even field kitchens or telephones,
shouldering the antiquated Werndel rifles which were the only
weapons which the Austrians had troubled to issue to them,
carrying their cartridges in their pockets in default of ammu
nition pouches. A motley army dressed anyhow. In the plain
blue breeches, short tunic and Maciejowka caps of the Strzelcy,
in a variety of discarded Austrian uniforms, misfits from
regimental stores, thrown out at random to equip the Polish
volunteers, in city suits and in workmen s overalls. An un
orthodox army for any country to send forth. But an army
great in fighting spirit, a young, gay army that laughed and
sang as it marched.

The Russians retreated from Michow and the Strzelcy oc
cupied the town. Pilsudski issued a proclamation to the Na
tional Government.

2l6 PILSUDSKI

"The decisive hour has struck. Poland is no longer en
slaved. She will henceforth determine her own destiny,
and carve out her own future, throwing into the scale the
force of her armies. The First Companies of the Polish
Army have penetrated the territory of the realm, and are
occupying it in the name of its true and sole owners, the
Polish people who have enriched and fertilized its soil with
their blood. We bring to the whole nation freedom from
its chains," ...

He signed it ... "Pilsudski, Commander-in-Chief of the
Polish Troops."

It was one of the best moments in his life. At last, at the
age of forty-seven, he saw the realization of the dream of his
boyhood, the creation of a Polish army to fight against Russia.
And he was the leader of that army. "That first fight, that
first contact with war" ... he wrote a few years later . . .
"I do not know what it held for others, but to me it had
as much poetry as my first youthful love affair, my first
kisses" . . .

He was profoundly happy for he was serving the two ideals
which had dominated his whole life. His love of Poland and
his love of the army. He had so long been a voice crying in
the wilderness, a soldier in theory only, a mere writer on mili
tary strategy. Now the sword was in his own hand.

Yet the road ahead of him was by no means smooth. There,
were many problems to be faced in this task of moulding an
army. He had excellent raw material to work upon, his troops
were well-trained and full of fighting spirit, but that was not
enough for him. He wanted to create not merely a victorious
fighting force but an army that was to be the nucleus of a
national standing army. Poland had had no regular army of
her own within living memory and therefore her soldiers could
only acquire slowly through personal experience the discipline
and military traditions which were ingrained in other nations.
^ The necessity for organization was critical. It took some
time to get into working order a military machine which had
been manufactured overnight. There was constant friction
over the ordinary details of army routine, questions of seniority

THE WHITE EAGLE 217

and discipline among the officers and so forth. When, for
instance, the providential capture of a number of Russian
horses enabled a Cavalry Corps to be formed nearly every
man in the army, with the Pole s characteristic love of a good
horse, wanted to be in it, and there was such bitter jealousy
that the Commander-in-Chief had to affirm loudly on every
suitable occasion that the heart of an army was always held
to be its Infantry!

The fact that his relations with the Austrian .Government
were not clearly defined made incessant demands both on his
diplomacy and on his qualities of leadership. . . .

"From the beginning I had to realize that the attitude
of the Austrian and German troops, standing armies with
centuries-old traditions, would be one of profound scep
ticism as to the military value of our volunteer formation,"
he wrote in describing those first difficult weeks of the
campaign. "I was prepared for this attitude, and knowing
well the lofty ambition of the Strzelcy I was very much
afraid that I might not only wound this ambition of theirs
at the first reverse, but even worse, destroy their faith in
themselves as soldiers. And a reverse was more than likely
in the extremely poor state of our technical armament and
equipment. I had then to defend my soldiers not only
from external humiliation but also from the internal
humiliation to which the consciousness of being less
efficient than the troops around them might well give

rise."

He arrived with his small force at Jedrzejow, found no sign
of the Austrian cavalry and decided on his own responsibility
to march on Kielce. It was a daring move and one which might
well have resulted in a signal defeat. .

"I was quite aware that in the depths of their hearts all
my soldiers were afraid of their mad undertaking," he
wrote later. "And afraid of the test which we should
shortly have to pass both in the eyes of our allies and in
our own. When I considered the state of our armament
and thought of this test I told myself that I must be

2 i8 PILSUDSKI

cautious and not give rein to my fancy. But then all the
will, pride and ambition in me rebelled against these
prudent reflections. Besides, there was no escape. We
could only win what we needed above all to win, self-
confidence and the military respect of those associated with
us by taking big risks. I staked a great deal on a single
card. . . ."

The game was in his favour. On August izth he entered
Kielce at the head of an army composed of 141 officers and
2,257 men - Among their ranks were members of the aristoc
racy, students of the Strzelcy Military School, professional
men, doctors, artists and musicians, labourers and artisans from
Russian Poland and peasants recruited from the farms and
villages along the road. The cavalry numbered five officers
and forty-seven men under the command of Belina.

"They effected nothing short of miracles," wrote Pil-
sudski. "Untrained to long marches, on saddles made for
hack-riding, on worn-out horses, they blistered themselves
raw. Armed with long rifles unsuitable for use on horse
back, they tore their backs till they bled to carry out patrols
of seventy to eighty kilometres a day." . . .

Among these men was Sieroszewski, the famous writer,
who although he was approaching his sixtieth year, served
throughout the war as a trooper in the cavalry.

In the meantime there was considerable agitation in the
political circles of both Austrian and Russian Poland. Pilsud-
ski had marched off to war, created a National Government
and occupied several towns before any one else had decided as
to what attitude was to be adopted.

The war between the Partitioning Powers had forced upon
Poles the alternative of either defying their respective rulers
or else fighting in opposing armies. The unhappy nation was
see-sawed this way and that, threatened and cajoled in turn by
the belligerent governments. Roman Dmowsld and the Na
tional Democrat Party urged complete support of Russia, an
alliance of the Slav race against the Teuton. The Grand Duke
Nicholas, Commander-in-Chief of the Russian Armies, issued

THE WHITE EAGLE 219

a proclamation promising that Poland should be "re-born, free
in faith, in language, in self-government." It met with a mixed
reception. Four of the political parties, headed by the National
Democrats, hailed it with enthusiasm and issued a manifesto
pledging the wholehearted loyalty of the nation to Russia s
cause regardless of the fact that only a fraction of the nation
was behind them. There was strife and dissatisfaction every
where.

In Austrian Poland the position was no less complicated.
The Government had intended to take refuge in a negative
policy, making no compromising pledges, leaving the Galician
Poles to serve in the Austrian Army. But this turbulent Pil-
sudski had forced their hands. Although they were constrained
to treat him as an ally, they remained more than a little doubt
ful of his intentions, since he still made no secret of his dream
of an independent Poland tied neither to Austria, Germany
nor Russia. Moreover, he had upset their mobilization plans.
There had been complaints from the War Office in Vienna
that Poles who would normally have been called up for Gali
cian regiments were serving under the banner of Pilsudski. The
situation was somewhat strained.

For him there was no going back. He had indeed "staked
a great deal on a single card." When he gave the order to
march upon Kielce he risked not only the military setback
which he dreaded but the collapse of his whole enterprise.
Those first few weeks called upon all his courage and faith in
himself. The Austrophil Poles in Cracow, true to their invari
able custom of underrating one of their own countrymen,
wavered and hedged, unwilling to risk their privileges and
their good relations with the Austrian Government by giving
him unqualified support. After a great deal of argument the
N.K.N. (Chief National Committee) was formed, a quarrel
some, unwieldy body containing representatives of nearly all
the Galician parries. Under its auspices an agreement was
reached with the Austro-Hungarian Monarchy for the crea
tion of Polish Legions to fight under the supreme command of
Austria. Pilsudski was to be at the head of the First Brigade,
and the small force which was already serving under him was
to be its nucleus. Subsequently a Second and Third Brigade

220 PILSUDSKI

were formed, but the three were not united until 1916 on the
Volhynian Front.

Within the first few weeks thousands of Polish recruits
flocked to the Legions; modern rifles and new equipment were
hastily issued. The Austrian Government drew up a manifesto
urging the Russian Poles to throw in their lot with their own
countrymen and fight against the Czar, promising them in
return a Polish Kingdom. Objections from Hungary, who
feared too strong a Poland, prevented its being signed.

Fighting discouragement, Pilsudski entered Kielce. There,
he proceeded to consolidate his position, to open up lines of
communication and supply. The Austrian and German troops
who came up to reinforce him found everything running
smoothly.

In the meantime I and the other women who formed a unit
of this new army had our own part to play. We crossed the
frontier into Russian territory on the same day as the Legions,
several hours after we had seen them go, and in some trepida
tion for we could get no news of them. However, we could
only obey orders so we set forth, a struggling little procession
of civilians in rickety country carts, with our baggage piled
up around us. I remember that the cart in which I rode was
overloaded with all our books and papers and a printing press.
However, we had the good fortune to come up with the
troops that first night and we took over our duties immedi
ately. The cooks set about preparing the meals, the clerks and
store-keepers took over such supplies as were available and the
Intelligence Section went out to reconnoitre. When the troops
occupied Kielce we followed after them and set up our head
quarters in the town. M. Danilovski, a young writer, and I
opened an office in what had been a Russian Government
bureau, and began to turn out propaganda. The Russians had
departed in such haste that drawers and cupboards were in
wild disorder, papers lay strewn all over the floor and one of
the officials had even left his cap with its badge of office
hanging on a peg. M. Danilovski wanted to throw it out but
I said that we must keep it for luck. Events more than justified
my superstition for we owed our escape to it a few days
later.

THE WHITE EAGLE 221

For the first few days there was complete calm in the town.
Not a sign of any Russian troops. The small Austrian and
German detachments moved in and took up their quarters.
There seemed so little prospect of an enemy attack that Pil-
sudski decided to go to Cracow, where the N.K.N. were being
organized. There were various formalities to be discussed with
the Chief National Committee and the Austrian High Com
mandthe training of recruits and the issue of additional
equipment, etc., and his presence was necessary. He went by
car, leaving Sosnkowski in command.

Within twenty-four hours of his departure the situation
took a new turn. For no apparent reason not only Kielce itself
but the whole region rang with rumours of large Russian
forces of cavalry advancing.

The Austrian and German commanders, whose troops con
sisted only of a few cavalry patrols, decided to retire. With
out a word of warning or explanation to Sosnkowski they
withdrew their detachments overnight, leaving the small Polish
force with its inadequate arms and equipment to defend the
city or not as it chose.

The Russians attacked almost immediately. Their numbers
had been greatly exaggerated, but even so the odds were
enormously in their favour. Belina and his handful of cavalry
put up a gallant resistance but their defeat was a foregone
conclusion.

The first tidings of disaster reached me when the porter
came running into the office where I was working with M.
Danilovski crying out that the Cossacks were in the town. As
he spoke we heard a volley of shots and the sound of horses
charging through the streets.

We had two alternatives: to try to escape to the railway
station which our troops would be defending, or stay where
we were until we were arrested by the Russian officials who
would come to recover possession of their bureau. In a com
mon impulse we decided to run for it. M. Danilovski snatched
up the Russian official s cap which was still hanging on its peg
and put it on his head. Then with an air of as much unconcern
as we could achieve we walked out into the street arm in arm.
We met numbers of Russian soldiers but those who took any

222 PILSUDSKI

notice of us at all glanced at M. Danilovski s cap and let us
pass without question.

Fierce fighting was going on in many of the streets and
we had to make several detours before we reached the station.
There we saw our own troops occupying the trenches which
they had dug when they entered the city, while Belina s cav
alry was meeting the Cossack charges. We were debating how
to join up with the Polish troops without being caught be
tween the two lines of fire when we saw a group of our sol
diers bearing down upon us. They were shouting at Danilovski
and I snatched the Russian cap from his head just in time!

The fighting lasted for some hours but our force was too
heavily outnumbered to have even a chance of success. Sosn-
kowski had no alternative but to withdraw. His troops fell
back in good order in the direction of Jedrzejow.

I remained in Kielce with the civilians and I think that
the ensuing few days were some of the worst I have ever lived
through. Hour after hour went by without news, for we could
not establish communication either with Pilsudski or Sosn-
kowski. The blank was filled with the wildest rumours and
conjectures which seemed to sweep like a breath over the
town, for no one could trace their origin. On all sides, among
all types of people stories began to circulate of a desperate
battle in which the Poles and Austrians had been defeated. I
remember going out one morning and buying cheese from a
peasant woman who turned my heart to lead by telling me
with many tears that the Russian cavalry had met the Polish
Legions and had practically annihilated them. Pilsudski, who
had returned from Cracow and rejoined his troops on the road
had been killed, she said. She had heard it from her cousin s
son who was serving in the Legions and had been one of the
few to escape after the battle.

A little farther on I heard the same story, with a few
additions, from an old crossing-sweeper. He too claimed first
hand information from one of the Legionaries. A priest, whom
I knew to be a most truthful man and a sincere patriot, also
confirmed it. In his version Pilsudski had not been killed but
had been taken prisoner ... the country priest who had
given him the news had actually seen the motor-car in which

THE WHITE EAGLE 223

he had been returning from Cracow lying abandoned by the
roadside. A variation which brought no comfort to me for I
knew that of the two fates he would have preferred death a
hundred times.

Nearly a week passed while the Russians occupied the
town and we waited in vain for news. Then one morning the
little servant at the house where I was staying ran in to tell
me that the Cossacks had gone. They had departed silently
in the dawn, leaving all their baggage and a quantity of guns
and ammunition. A few hours later I stood at my window
and watched Pilsudski ride into the town at the head of his
Legions. There had been no battle. He had not been taken
prisoner, though his car had certainly been left at the roadside,
for the unromantic reason that it had broken down. So much
for war rumours!

He remained in Kielce for several weeks and during that
time he set the whole machinery of the new army in motion.
The commanders of the German and Austrian detachments
assigned to him by common consent the former palace of the
Russian Governor. He established his headquarters there and
began with his usual untiring energy the task of organizing
and equipping his troops. A regular service of baggage trains
was instituted, workshops were set up ... tailors , carpen
ters , and saddle-makers . A medical department was created to
attend to the sick; the Intelligence Section was extended.

The role played by the women in the Intelligence, the
"Couriers," as we were known, was an important one, for
since the war zone stretched between Russian and Austrian
Poland we alone could serve as links between the two regions.
We fulfilled a double function, conveying news and propa
ganda from the army to its supporters in Russian Poland and
returning to headquarters with the information which we had
collected on our way. This was generally of a twofold nature,
strategic, concerning the progress of the party organizations,
and military, gleaned during our passage through the enemy s
lines. Very often this last was of considerable value, for the
Russian system of surveillance was as slow-moving as the rest
of its military machine, and we were able to slip between the
lines time after time without incurring suspicion. It was a

224 PILSUDSKI

dangerous experiment, naturally, but it was chiefly a question
of keeping a cool head and getting to know the various gaps
in the lines through which we could pass. We evolved a num
ber of ingenious pretexts for our journeys to and fro. Some of
the women dressed themselves as peasants and sold fruit and
vegetables to the Russian troops, others pretended to be seek
ing news of husbands or brothers. From our conversations
with the soldiers we would often learn important details of
troop movements, expected reinforcements, and so forth. I
have still a letter from Pilsudski in which he gives me my
instructions for collecting this information.

"Remember that all your work amounts to the gathering
of raw material" ... he writes . . . "Afterwards it can be
sifted methodically and used in developing a plan. Do not be
discouraged because the results appear to be small. Every de
tail may have great importance in the future. . . ."

In the autumn of 1914 Pilsudski formed the P.O.W. (Polish
Military Organization). He was jealous of his original pro
gram of the independence of Poland, afraid lest it should
be overlooked in the alliance with Austria, which he never
looked on as anything other than a temporary expedient. The
idea that the nation should be sundered in spirit, as it had
already been sundered in territory, by the Partitioning Powers
was to him intolerable. The P.O.W. was therefore created
to reach the populace of Russian Poland and unite it in the
military effort which was still confined only to a section of
the nation. As it could only exist in the strictest secrecy it
depended on the women of the Intelligence Section for its con
tact with Pilsudski s headquarters. Branches were as far-flung
as Moscow, Kiev and Odessa, and we travelled constantly
between them and the army carrying news and propaganda.
Some fifty women took part in this work; not one of them
received any money for it, over and above their bare ex
penses. . . .

"Your work must necessarily be much harder than that
of the soldiers" . . . Pilsudski used to tell us ... "They are
sustained by fighting side by side, while you are alone and
can only rely on your own strength, and that requires much
more courage. . . ."

THE WHITE EAGLE

At a later date he wrote, in describing his Intelligence Sec
tion . . . "The women fulfilled their duties with heroic self-
sacrifice. They jolted along in carts over every road, covering
greater areas than the cavalry ."

We did indeed cover thousands of miles in a month, some
times by train, sometimes in rough peasants carts, often on
foot. Several were arrested and sent to Russian prisons, one,
a young student whose brother was serving in the Legions,
was afterwards shot as a spy. Her mother who was forced to
witness the exertion heroically overcame her grief and went
on to deliver to headquarters the information which her
daughter had obtained at the cost of her life.

CHAPTER XVII

THE EARLY autumn of 1914 brought Pilsudski disappointments
and setbacks both military and political. The campaign went
badly for the Austrians who were already beginning to show
signs of weakening morale. The German force sent to bol
ster them up was inadequate and their joint offensive was
repulsed with heavy losses. The Russians, who had flung the
whole weight of their vast military machine into the war,
continued the inexorable "steam-roller" advance which caused
their allies and enemies alike to over-estimate their strength
in those early days. The Austrian Commander in Kielce,
disheartened by reports of enemy concentration, gave orders
for retreat. Pilsudski fumed in secret that the town should
be thus abandoned without a single shot. It was all very well
for the Austrians and Prussians, who got all they wanted from
Vienna or Berlin. His small army depended for its equipment
on the workshops he had set up in Kielce, the tailors and
carpenters and saddlers. Many of his men had not even
overcoats or boots for the long marches. He was distressed
too at the prospect of leaving at the mercy of the enemy the
civilians who had worked for him. Yet he had no course but
to obey orders.

He was hampered on all sides both by his own people
and by the Austrians. The majority of the Poles showed no
disposition to support him. In Galicia the Chief National
Committee (N.K.N.) adhered slavishly to the dictates of the
Austrian High Command. The Poles in Russian Poland were
disputing among themselves and divided by party politics.
The National Democrats would not fight Russia. The Social
Democrats would not fight at all.

There was friction with the Austrian army under whose
command he was serving. Those in high authority distrusted
him. When he wanted to march on Sosnowiec and Czesto-
chowa, important industrial centres in Russian Poland where

226

THE WHITE EAGLE 227

he had a large following among the workmen who would have
rallied to him, he met with a blunt refusal. It was perfectly ob
vious that while Austria was content enough to avail herself
of the services of the Polish Legions she would steadfastly dis
courage any attempt at creating a united Poland.

The Austrian officers did not trouble to conceal their scorn
of their allies. . . . "By high and low we were regarded with
disdainful hostility or at the best with patronizing contempt"
. . . wrote Pilsudski. "This caused a great number of disputes
and unpleasant incidents which were generally humiliating.
After a few quarrels with the High Command it became the
rule to treat me as a bete noire?

From one quarter he received unqualified trust and sup
port: his Legions. There was not one among them who would -
not have died willingly for him. They had no army tradition
behind them, no experienced N.C.O. s to lead them, and many
of them were only boys under twenty, yet they performed
deeds of sheer heroism. Again and again they achieved the
apparently impossible, took and held positions which defied
the well-trained, well-disciplined Austrian and German troops.
Their relations with him may have lacked the conventional
military formality, but they were warm, personal and friendly.
He called them "My boys"; they treated him like a father
rather than a Brigadier. Though he could be as exacting
as any Prussian officer where duty was concerned, and
expected a high standard in courage and initiative from his
men, he spared them whenever he could. He visited them
when they were in hospital, helped them in their individual
problems and stood between them and the criticisms of the
supercilious, overbearing Austrian officers. He was always
accessible to them, went among them in the trenches and
listened to their opinions, for he regarded the whole cam
paign as an experiment in which all shared. Between them
they evolved a sort of military democracy, an esp rit de corps
that was something more than mere army discipline.

He loved his men and he understood them. He was as
sensitive to their moods as he was to those of Kasztanka, the
beautiful Arab mare who carried him through the war. He
knew instinctively when they were discouraged, and when

22 g PILSUDSKI

they were confident, when he could demand their utmost ef
forts and when he would have to be lenient if he was to obtain
that complete co-operation of which he wrote:

"War is an art. Art is creative, and the whole object
and art of war is victory. The general seeks in victory the
fruit of his work in command, the product of his brain,
nerves and will power. The work of the troops under his
orders is the materialization of what he has thought, ex
perienced and contrived. . . ."

His reactions to the war were twofold. At one moment
he was the soldier, the strategist, devoted from his boyhood
to the whole "art of war." At another he was the idealist
appalled at the carnage around him, tortured by a too-vivid
imagination. Thus he could write at different times:

"What a curious impression it is to be physically unaware
of the enemy! How happy our ancestors were at war,
when they had fewer exhausting problems to solve, and
on account of the short range of their weapons, were often
not only aware of their enemies presence, but could actu
ally count them. To-day this physical proximity to one s
opponent has become relatively rare, and is generally the
final incident of a long episode." . . .

And again . .

"Somewhere in the distance boomed the quiet hollow noise
of firing, which I had learnt to recognize as that of heavy
artillery. Immediately afterwards I heard the slow, twist
ing flight of a shell in the air. That noise somewhere above
one approaches so slowly that one s eye searches for it
in the air instinctively, and yet it whistles and lisps with
such hostility and so pitilessly, as if it said . . . You won t
escape. I am coming to you; certain death; but I am com
ing slowly, unhurrying, because I wish to see how your
face blanches before you die. In this hostile whistle of heavy
shells there is a shade of mockery, of malicious, self-assured
power slowly advancing and scoffing at helpless man. There
is nothing of the hurry, fever and clamorousness of the shells
of the field artillery. . . ."

THE WHITE EAGLE 229

All through the autumn of 1914 the Austrian army met
with one reverse after another. After the withdrawal from
Kielce the Polish army, as the rearguard, put up a determined
fight along the left bank of the Vistula and although heavily
outnumbered succeeded in holding back the pursuing Russians
for several days. It was their first action of any importance
and it won them laurels in the eyes of the Austrians and con
fidence in their own.

Early in October the Austrians launched another offensive
northwards in the direction of Warsaw. Pilsudski gave useful
collaboration by calling upon the P.O.W. (Polish Military
Organization) to enter the conflict and take arms against
Russia. Under the command of one of his own men, a student
named Fadeusz Zulinski, hundreds of young apprentices, stu
dents, and artisans of Warsaw banded themselves together and
conducted a guerilla warfare against the Russians. Pilsudski
himself with six battalions of infantry and a squadron of
cavalry held important positions near Demblin in spite of a
terrific bombardment from the guns of the fortress. However,
General Dankiel, who was in command of the Austrian Army,
gave orders for a retreat.

To Pilsudski the decision was a bitter disappointment. For
him so far the campaign had been nothing but a series of
withdrawals and rearguard actions fought against heavy odds.
As usual, the Austrian staff did not honour him with their
confidence and he was left to suppose that they were retreat
ing to Cracow. He even sent on all his baggage and heavy
equipment there ... "I thought that there, collected to
gether with all our casualties, convalescents and stragglers of
all sorts, we would halt in defence of the city from which
we had gone to the wars" ... he wrote afterwards . . .
"There, even an unhappy end to our attempt to create a Pol
ish soldier would have the right historical background. . . ."

But the columns of retreating troops swung away from
Cracow, away westwards to the Dombrowa Basin. The road
became blocked with baggage trains withdrawing in confu
sion; the artillery coming up behind tried to clear a way
through by sheer weight and ruthlessness; the infantry and
machine guns piled themselves on top. The retreat which had

THE WHITE EAGLE 23!

started methodically was turned into a disorderly flight, in
which each man thought only of himself. Pilsudski strove to
keep his soldiers together. The commander of the Austrian
brigade behind him cursed him for impeding delay and threat
ened to complain to headquarters. The Czechs in front, who
despised the Polish Legions as an irregular gang, almost came
to blows with his men. Outside the little town of Wolbrom the
retreat developed into a stampede, a pandemonium of shout
ing, struggling, quarrelling men. Determined at all costs to
get his Legionaries clear of it he halted them before the edge
of the town and let the fleeing Austrians sweep past him.

The November evening closed in. His men laughed and
sang over their smoky camp fires as they made tea and cooked
potatoes, but for once he had little heart to join them. He
was facing the realization of where this retreat would end.
When the Austrians rallied sufficiently to make a stand against
the enemy it would not be upon Polish soil. Poland would be
delivered over to the advancing hordes of Russia, while the
Polish army fought for Austria!

The thought was intolerable to him . . . "The Austrians
might defend Breslau, Vienna or Berlin" ... he wrote
later . . . "But we free Polish Strzelcy would not do that.
We would try to die with honour but we would die in our
own land." . . .

There rose before his eyes the vision of the walls of Cracow,
that beloved city of Cracow whence he had set out to the war,
and suddenly his mind was made up. Cracow was a fortress:
it had stood. many a siege in the past: he and his men with
the Austrians could hold it for days, maybe for weeks. Be
tween the Russian forces which were closing up behind the
retreating Austrians was still a corridor wide enough to permit
a small detachment to pass through to the south. It was a des
perate risk but he would take it, even though it meant acting
in direct defiance of his orders.

Leaving three battalions of his Legions to continue with
General DankiePs army he marched southwards with the re
maining three. In spite of the gravity of the step he was taking
he was relieved, almost gay, for he had thrown off the shackles
of the Austrian Command! His troops shared his elation though

232 PILSUDSKI

they were haggard from the strain of a heavy rearguard ac
tion, long marches and lack of sleep. They had been obliged
to leave all transport and supplies behind them, and had only
as much ammunition as they could carry. Their food de
pended on what they could get at the villages through which
they passed. In one they ate hot bread baked for the Russians,
in another a farm supplied them with milk and kascha. They
marched over miles of ploughed fields and through straggling
woods. It was a mad adventure, but its very madness and
audacity made it successful. They passed right through the
midst of one enemy corps and through the advance guard of
another without losing a single man. At Ulina Mala they
rested calmly for a whole day while Russian troops and
transports marched only a few kilometres away on either side
of them.

They entered Cracow in triumph. The townspeople ac
claimed Pilsudski; the women showered flowers upon him.
But the Commander of the handful of Austrians garrisoning
the fortress received him coldly and refused at first even to
give him billets for his men. It was only one more official
snub and he did not care. He had avoided fighting for Austria
on foreign soil: that was all that mattered to him. But he had
also gained something else. . . .

"I confess that it was only after Ulina that I began
to have confidence in myself and belief in my powers" . . .
he wrote at a later date . . . "And perhaps just because
of that I so often heard my soldiers say . . . Now we can
follow our Commandant anywhere. If he could get us out
of Ulina we need not worry! 7 It was like an examination
that I passed both before myself and before my men. , . ."

Cracow did not fall. The tide of war turned again. The
Germans launched a fresh offensive towards Lodz which broke
the force of the Russian advance. In the South the Austrians
made a stand, sent reinforcements to Cracow and held the
city and the surrounding country. Pilsudski and his Legions
took Kamienica from the Russians and guarded the Austrian
j ^ ^ g reat Battle Li manowa w hich drove
: beyond the Dunajec.

THE WHITE EAGLE 233

By the end of December the Polish First Brigade had
become famous. The Austrian General had written in glowing
terms of its courage and efficiency at Limanowa. Pilsudski s
prestige had increased enormously. The Austrian High Com
mand had begun to respect him as a military leader though
they distrusted his political influence: he was steadily gain
ing the confidence of his own countrymen. When he en
tered Nowy Soncz on December nth at the head of his
victorious troops the townspeople lined the streets to greet
him and cheered themselves hoarse. I can still remember how
that welcome delighted him, not because he set any personal
value on it, but because he was happy that at last, after so
many years, Poland had an army of her own, an army in
which her people could take pride.

At the end of December he went to Vienna for a confer
ence of the N.K.N., which was still obstinately Austrophil and
critical in its attitude to him. At the banquet which was held
afterwards he pleaded for unity. . . .

"We are our country s knights going out to war, but we
must have not only the strength of the mailed fist but the
strength of mind and heart behind it. The union of our people
behind the N.K.N. can give us this. The spirit of the nation
must complete our victories in the field, and justify the sacri
fice of our blood." . . .

When one of his Legionaries, Danilovski, the writer, who
was another of the speakers, upbraided him laughingly for not
valuing his own safety and taking unnecessary risks in the
trenches, Pilsudski interrupted him by striking the table with
his fist and calling him to attention. . . "If you want to
criticize your superior officer in public you must take off your
uniform" ... he said: "If I were really the Commander-
in-Chief of my army instead of a mere colonel I should have
to behave like a Commander-in-Chief. As it is I can re
member that a colonel s place is with his troops, not behind

them. . . ."

.

The year 1915 saw the continuation of the Austro-German
campaign with rising fortunes. Russia, as Pilsudski had pre
dicted, was already beginning to totter on her "feet of wax":

234 PILSUDSKI

her ponderous military machine was slowing down through
lack of organization and general inefficiency. The tempera
mental Austrians, encouraged by the victory of Limanowa,
rallied and drove the enemy still farther back along the Vis
tula; the Germans won a decisive battle at Gorlice in May.
All through the summer months success followed success for
the Central Powers. In June they regained the city of Lwow;
in August the Russians evacuated Warsaw and were driven
out in the key fortresses of Kovno and Modlin.

On August 6th, the anniversary of the day they had gone
out to war, Pilsudski could look back upon a year which,
while it held no spectacular triumphs, had at least not been a
failure. His First Brigade had acquitted themselves with hon
our and fought well. Since the previous Christmas they had
been almost continuously in action, held positions on the Nida
and taken part in the great offensive following on the Ger
man victory of Gorlice. In an order to his troops he said:

"Soldiers and comrades-in-arms. A year has passed, a
year of heavy toil hampered by so many difficulties that it
is a wonder that we find ourselves still in existence as an
army; a wonder too that our native forests have not long
ago murmured a funeral song over us, the Polish soldiers
of the Great War. Now after a year of war we are still
only Poland s vanguard in arms, as we are also her moral
vanguard in knowing how to risk everything when risk is
necessary. . . ."

In a letter to me written during that autumn he said:

"We are staying here for a short rest which all of us,
myself included, need and deserve. I have had influenza
again which always seems to leave traces after it, either
weakness or just cold. So rest, physical, and above all
mental, will be welcome because our success has been
bought with hard mental toil, much suffering and many
painful and bitter moments, which I have had to live
through while steering the course of that queer vessel, my
army. After our crazy and dangerous adventures, not so
much the actual fighting as our relations with our whole

THE WHITE EAGLE 235

military entourage, we need a breathing space! And so
we are resting, sometimes being ill, sometimes trying to
keep ourselves from being ill, learning much and organizing
a little, and amusing ourselves when we can.

"I have been wondering for a long time what to give
you for a birthday present. Until now I have only been
able to find my own photograph. You can see from it
that I have a beard no longer, which will please you as
you never liked it. I must tell you that I was thinking
of you when I shaved it off. It was nearly on the date of
your birthday, so you have another present in the form
of my beard! . . ."

He wrote me many letters in those years of the war, when
ever he had a moment to spare and there was any means of
sending mail. His letters were vivid, characteristic, reflecting
every mood, whether he wrote of the war and of the difficulties
that beset his path, or of the trivial things of every day. Here is
one written during the battle of Konary in October 1915:

"This is the twelfth day that we have stood facing one
another, dancing a military dance, around Konary and
Klimontow. Our losses have been heavy but during the
last three days quiet has reigned. We are entrenching our
selves again and putting up more barbed wire entangle
ments. I sleep undisturbed at night now and during the
day I listen to the scream of the shells over our heads as
they fly backwards and forwards between the Russian
artillery and ours. Otherwise there is nothing sinister and
war might be almost a pretty thing. Imagine: during the
battle I was standing by the telephone where all the
different lines are linked up. The telephone was in a
valley, hidden in a cave hollowed out in the slope of the
mountain. The shells went screeching past overhead and
a hail of shrapnel and rifle bullets pattered against the
trees on either side of us, and yet during a few seconds
lull in the fighting a nightingale in the trees in the valley
burst full-throated into his song of love, heedless of the din
of battle and the massacre of humanity going on around him
on this beautiful moonlit night. It was an impression I shall

236 PILSUDSKI

never forget to the end of my days. That force of life in
presence of the force of death was profoundly moving."

Those years in the trenches developed that sensitive, crea
tive imagination of his which was so at variance with the
realism and the concentrated energy of his daily life. At
night in his dug-out or in his billet behind the lines he formed
many of the impressions which served later as foundations for
his articles and lectures. He wrote, for instance, of that com
panionship with death which every fighting man must, con
sciously or unconsciously, experience. . . .

"A soldier s profession means work in abnormal condi
tions. It creates in him a special attitude to death. Every one
must die, of course, but when a soldier goes to death,
Death takes him by the hand and walks with him on
to the field of battle. Death and the thought of dissolu
tion surround him constantly; the spectre of death stands
beside him every day. The effort to grow used to this
brotherhood with death, which is the duty of a soldier, im
prints deep grooves on his soul and changes his character.
The man who is going to die to-morrow sees things from a
different angle. He does not value his comforts, because by
to-morrow all comforts may have disappeared. He does
not appreciate other people s comforts overmuch, and his
own count for nothing with him. In this long contact, this
perpetual brotherhood with Death material comforts be
come cheap and valueless, things with which one easily
dispenses. The life of a good soldier must be a continual
lottery and therefore material wealth is of much less impor
tance in his eyes than in the eyes of most people." . . .

The year 1915 was a year of victories for him, that is to
say, of victories in the field. Politically the situation grew no
less complicated. There was still the same friction with the
Austrian High Command who treated him and his First Bri
gade "like a disorderly rabble." There was the same half
hearted support and constant criticism from the N.K.N.,
whose lack of confidence was the more galling to bear since
it came from his own countrymen. . . .

THE WHITE EAGLE 237

"Our national psychology makes the majority of Poles have
no faith in the birth of a Polish soldier and a Polish army"
. . . he wrote bitterly . . . "They prefer to trust to the good
graces of the Austrian Government, and to influences at the
court of Vienna to obtain benefits for Poland rather than that
we should rely on ourselves. That is the psychological wall
that stands between our First Brigade and the rest of the na
tion. . . ." More than a year had passed since the Polish
Army had gone to war, yet the hope of establishing a free
and united Poland in Galicia seemed fainter than ever.

In Russian Poland, too, the situation was discouraging. By
the end of 1915 the Russians had been driven inch by inch out
of the country, but the heavy hand of Russian overlordship
had only exchanged for the no less heavy hand of German
occupation. The people were too inert and too divided among
themselves by party politics to offer any effective resistance.
The influence of the National Democrats had waned with the
Russian reverses and Roman Dmowski had fled to St. Peters
burg, but numbers of Poles were still serving with the Rus
sian forces. Pilsudski, casting about for a means of uniting
the nation in a fight for independence, found everywhere the
signs of disunity. They were even brought home to him on
the battlefield.

One day he was taken to interview a wounded prisoner and
found a handsome boy of eighteen, from the same district as
himself, lying in a cart evidently very badly wounded. On
questioning him he discovered that he was related to one of
his old schoolfellows at Wilno. . . .

"It was terribly painful to me" ... he wrote later . . .
"And still more so when I read through the papers found
on him. There was a letter from his mother which breathed
deep love and anxiety for her son. But at the same time
there were things in it that were new to my ideas of
Lithuania. She wrote that she knew from the newspapers
that he was already near Cracow, and that therefore he
was probably under the command of either General Ruzzski
or General Brusilov, both of them heroes for whom prayers
were offered daily in church, as defenders of Lithuania. I

PILSUDSKI

flung the letter on the table in a passion. I had not yet seen
the pious of Lithuania praying for Russians! But the young
face of my fellow-countryman, shot by my soldiers, is
still before my eyes as a living witness to the moral burden
which fell upon Poland and the Poles when war broke out.
A cursed consequence of slavery!"

He must at all costs build up a military organization suffi
ciently powerful and united to carry the claim for independ
ence to a successful issue. He was well aware that nothing but
vague promises could be expected from the conservative and
Austrophil N.K.N. With his usual custom of "looking truth
in the face," to use one of his favourite expressions, he had
never considered it as anything but an intermediary in his
relations with the Austrian Government. He began to sus
pend recruiting for the Legions and instead concentrated all
his energies on his own organization of the P.O.W. (Polish
Military Organization) which offered him a wider scope since
it was tied neither to Austria nor Russia. Since its first guerilla
campaign against the Russians in the early months of the war
it had developed into a powerful instrument with branches all
over Poland and many thousands of members, drawn from all
classes of the nation. Statistics collected from the various local
centres showed roughly a composition of 3 1 % intellectuals,
33% workmen, artisans and employees, and 36% peasants.
They were the very spirit of independence in the nation; be
tween them they built up a bulwark of resistance to German
and Austrian designs. In an order to them Pilsudski wrote:

"Yours is the hardest post which the Polish soldier can
hold. Without banners and without the moral satisfaction of
a hand-to-hand fight with the enemy you bear yourselves
gallantly, threatened by an invisible army, like a soldier
who makes his stand at a post which appears to be lost. If
you had failed in this you would have failed in the whole
spirit which is making of our national struggle a united
struggle, one with the tradition of our fathers. Your cour
age reconciles me to the heavy lot which has been my
part of this war ... if in this short time I have created
what I believed to be an impossibility, the First Brigade,

THE WHITE EAGLE 239

a brave and efficient army without one professional soldier
in its ranks, I believe that I can make of you another im
possibility 7 ... a military force under the conditions of
secrecy and conspiracy. . . ."

In order to raise the money for training and equipping
these thousands of recruits Pilsudski and the officers of his
First Brigade voluntarily cut down their pay to 100 crowns
a month. They had their reward in the autumn of 1915 when
the P.O.W. was able to send its battalion to join the Legions
in the field. The new troops went into action for the first time
on the Volhynian front and fought gallantly and with suc
cess although their young commander Thaddeus Zulinski was
killed.

The German occupation of Warsaw in August 1915 made
Pilsudski decide to press for a definite answer concerning the
independence of Poland. He hurried to Warsaw and took
political soundings. The result was unsatisfactory. He had
opened up the very question which the Central Powers wished
to avoid. Both Germany and Austria had their own reasons
for postponing a settlement of the Polish claim. They were
agreed on one point, that the fullest use must be made of
Poland s man power. In spite of their success the war was
already taking toll of their armies, and they could not afford
to lose the opportunity of recruiting millions of Poles. But
before they could do this they must emancipate them and
enlist them as allies. Therein lay the difficulty. Austria would
have been willing enough to add the former Russian provinces
to Galicia and establish an Austro-Polish-Hungarian empire,
but neither Hungary nor Germany would agree to this solu
tion. The Hungarian Government was jealous of its own
powers and privileges which might be lessened in a Triple
Monarchy; Germany realized that a strong Polish state would
upset the Germanization of Prussian Poles. So the Central
Powers hedged and prevaricated and Pilsudski could get no
answer to his question either one way or the other. In disgust
he told the N.K.N. that he considered the political role of the
Legions was at an end and that he intended to sign on no
more recruits although he would continue to fight at the head

240 PILSUDSKI

of his First Brigade. He returned to the Front and remained
there during the latter months of 1915 and the early part of
1916 with the brief intervals for hurried journeys to Lublin,
Vienna and Cracow for political interviews and discussions
which led to nothing.

During the year 1915 I was one of the women couriers in
the Legion and travelled continually to and fro between the
different local centres carrying propaganda and aiding recruit
ing. It was inevitable therefore that sooner or later I should
come under the ban of the German police.

The attitude of the German authorities towards Pilsudski
at that time was a compound of surface cordiality and sus
picion. With their hide-bound conception of military eti
quette they looked upon his First Brigade as an irregular gue
rilla troop led by a revolutionary, and distrusted his political
activities. But as allies of Austria they could not show open
hostility to the Legions and were constrained to accept, or at
least tolerate, the man who commanded them. On the other
hand, they could, and did, use every eif ort to suppress the
P.CXW. on the ground that it was a secret military organiza
tion acting against the Government.

At the close of 1915 two-thirds of the country was under
German occupation. In Warsaw the Prussian Governor-
General, von Beseler, ruled with an iron hand. The Kaiser s
secret police poked long inquisitive fingers into every crevice
and corner of the city, searching for agitators, as those of the
Czar had done before them; the jails were occupied once
again by a new batch of political prisoners. Thus it happened
that one afternoon in November I arrived at the house where
I was staying in the city to find two German police agents
waiting to arrest me on a charge of "inciting citizens to join
an illegal organization known as the P.O.W."

I was taken to the Paviak prison, now under German admin
istration. It appeared to have changed little since I had last seen
it eight years before, except that the jailers wore different uni
forms and the corridors were slightly cleaner. I was put into
a cell with two other women, both of whom were classified

THE WHITE EAGLE 241

as criminals, although there was no evidence against them.
They were, I discovered, victims of the iron system of German
justice. Having the misfortune to be married to men charged
with various crimes they had been automatically arrested with
their husbands and would probably be detained in the prison
for an indefinite period. For the first ten days I remained with
them locked in a damp cell which was generally in semi-dark
ness, for the light filtered in through one small grille which
took the place of a window. After nightfall we had not even
a candle and we used to sit huddled together round the little
stove which was our sole means of heating, telling stories to
pass the time. Later I was removed to a separate cell which I
occupied with one other woman, Madame Klempinska, a
political prisoner like myself, and a member of the P.P.S.

The conditions of the prison were much the same as they
had been under the Russian regime; the food was little better.
Breakfast consisted of a cup of weak tea and a slice of bread
without butter; dinner was a plate of kascha; in the evening
there was nothing but a cup of boiling water. After my trial,
however, I was allowed to have a parcel of provisions sent in
by my lawyer, Mr. Pazchalski, and I and my companion in
misfortune lived on it for a couple of days. Never did food
taste so delicious!

The German court found me guilty of political agitation
and ordered me to be put in a detention camp. At the end of
a further fortnight in the Paviak I was taken to Szczypiorno,
near Kalisz, one of the biggest camps for prisoners of war in
Poland.

CHAPTER XVIII

MY FIRST impressions of Szczypiorno were discouraging to
say the least.

Imagine a windswept, desolate field, knee-deep in mud in
many places, crossed and re-crossed by lines of dug-outs in
which some four thousand prisoners of war and a hundred
civilians were herded together. That was the picture which
greeted me when I arrived in the gloom of a bleak December
afternoon with Madame Klempinska and four men, Polish ci
vilians, who were also to be interned. Wooden-faced Bavarian
soldiers received us from the police who had accompanied us
from Warsaw; a young lieutenant ran his finger down a list
setting forth our names, occupations and sentences, reeled off a
perfunctory warning on the folly of trying to escape and then
handed us over to the guards. The four men were marched off
in one direction, Madame Klempinska and I in another.

The camp had been originally planned in the form of huts,
but at the last moment timber had apparently run short, and
there had been a compromise resulting in dug-outs, sunk deep
into the earth and topped by a flimsy structure of wood about
three feet in height and containing small windows. Seen from
the front the effect was rather like rows of dolTs-houses.

Madame Klempinska and I crossed the field in a thin
drizzle of rain which our guard cheerfully informed us fell
nearly every day during the winter months, and descended
a flight of wooden steps into a sort of cave. It reminded
us irresistibly of a vault and had the same musty,
earthy smell. When our eyes grew accustomed to the dim
light we saw that it was a comparatively large apartment,
divided into two by a trench which was spanned by duck-
boards, a necessary measure for after days of heavy rain it
became like a moat. This primitive accommodation was de
signed for eighty men but as we were the only women in
the camp we had it to ourselves until we were joined by a

242

THE WHITE EAGLE 243

young servant girl. It was bitterly cold in those winter days
for the one small stove in the centre only gave out heat within
a limited radius and the icy winds of December curled through
the doors and windows. In one corner were two heaps of sacks
filled with sawdust and covered with army blankets. Our
beds. There was no furniture of any description, not even
a table. For the first few minutes we were too stunned even
to give voice to our dismay, but when the guard returned with
some papers which we were to sign I asked for an interview
with the Commandant of the camp. At first he refused even
to pass on the request, saying that it was against the regula
tions at that hour of the day, but I was so persistent that
at length he departed, very reluctantly, to consult the officer
on duty. Half an hour later he returned with the message
that the Commandant would see me, after I had been dis
infected. He stared at me in blank astonishment when I burst
out laughing and then explained that the process of disin
fection was part of the routine of arrival at the camp. A few
minutes later Madame Klempinska and I were initiated
into it.

We were taken into a room where a tall grim-looking Ger
man woman divested us of our clothes which she rolled up in
bundles. Then she led us to two small bath tubs which she
proceeded to fill with a very small quantity of water and a
great deal of strong disinfectant. After telling us to get into
them she departed carrying our clothes, and leaving the door
open so that the wind whistled round our naked forms until
I ran shivering to shut it. The process of bathing was the
reverse of pleasant. The atmosphere in the room was almost
glacial, for there were no panes in the windows, and the water
in the baths was almost boiling. Consequently we were alter
nately chilled and scalded, while the disinfectant stung our
skins until we were the colour of lobsters. After we had en
dured about fifteen minutes of this the German woman re
turned bringing two wraps of coarse towelling in which we
were bidden to clothe ourselves until our own garments were
dry. In the meantime she washed our hair in a strong carbolic
lotion which left it as hard and as brittle as straw and so sticky
and unmanageable that it took weeks to recover.

244 PILSUDSKI

The next process was a hasty examination by the German
army doctor attached to the camp, who pronounced us in
good health and gave us each a couple of injections for typhus.
Evidently the theory of disinfection did not extend to this,
for he plunged the hypodermic needle first into me and
then into Madame Klempinska without even troubling to
wipe it.

While we were undergoing all this our clothes were being
disinfected in another room with Germanic thoroughness. Ap
parently they were dealt with even more drastically than we
were for when they were returned to us my blue dress had
turned green while poor Madame Klempinska s gloves had
shrunk so much that she could not get them on.

The rite of purification having thus been accomplished I
was taken to see the Commandant, an elderly man, a Prussian
officer of the old school with charming manners. He received
me courteously and listened sympathetically to my complaint
regarding the quarters which had been allotted to me. The
camp, he explained, had not been intended for the accommo
dation of women prisoners, and we were in fact the first whom
he had received there. He had already sent in a request to
headquarters for beds and mattresses for us and hoped that
they would be forthcoming before long. In the meantime he
suggested that I should go round with him next morning and
see whether I could find among the unoccupied huts one bet
ter than our present one.

With this I was forced to be content, but the night that
followed was one of the most unpleasant I have ever lived
through. I lay awake hour after hour in the darkness listening
to the rats scurrying up and down the planks. The trenches
were infested with them, and they grew so bold that they
used to run over us as we lay on our sacks. I still shudder at
the remembrance of those wet, hairy bodies crawling over my
arms and neck! After the first few nights I got into the habit
of wrapping my blankets round me so tightly that not even my
head was left uncovered. Although the Commandant kept his
word and moved us to another hut which was slightly less
damp and in time even secured camp beds for Us the rats
continued to be one of our worst trials.

THE WHITE EAGLE 245

The days passed slowly for us and we had no means of
killing time and no contract with the outside world. In theory
we were allowed to receive letters but for some reason or other
they never seemed to reach us. During the greater part of a
year I only heard once from Pilsudslo, yet he wrote to me
many times. The absence of news was one of the hardest
things to bear. One tortured oneself wondering what was hap
pening. Occasionally one of the guards brought in a Ger
man newspaper, which was passed round from hut to hut un
til it almost fell to pieces. We had only one book, the life of
Julius Qesar. We read it over and over again, from cover to
cover.

The prisoners of war were divided into two camps, French
and Russian. They had their separate cookhouses and were
responsible for cooking their own meals. Although the food
which was supplied to them was the same exceedingly good
and in enormous quantities their manner of preparing it was
entirely different, characteristic of the two races. The French,
although there were no professional cooks among them, ex
pended time and care on their meals and managed to achieve
a very creditable example of the cuisine frangaise. The Rus
sians, fatalistic and indifferent, used to heap everything that
was given to them fish, meat, potatoes, cucumber, or any
thing else that happened to be going into one stewpan, put
it on the fire and then ladle it out in vast platefuls. Madame
Klempinska and I and the little servant used to eat in our own
hut but we had to fetch our food from the Russian canteen,
and we were so disgusted at the unappetizing mess that was
served out to us that we petitioned to be allowed to share
the food of the French prisoners. However, official red tape
would not stretch so far.

The last weeks of December were inexpressibly dreary.
The rain poured down in torrents, filling the trenches and
turning the field into a bog. Christmas Eve dawned in an
atmosphere of gloom for guards and prisoners alike. Madame
Klempinska and I sat crouched over the stove and talked of
past Christmases, which is a foolish thing for any one, except
the very happy, to do. And so my thoughts went back along
the years to Suvalki, and I saw myself as a child again,

246 PILSUDSKI

standing at the window watching the snowflakes spreading
a soft, glistening blanket over Grandmother s garden, and
searching the sky for the first pale star; the Star of Bethlehem,
Aunt Maria had said. Only after it had appeared could the
Christmas feast begin, and I was hungry for I had fasted since
the night before. In imagination I could hear the laughter and
chatter in the kitchen where Anusia and Rosalia were putting
the finishing touches to the dishes they had been preparing all
day, the twelve symbolical dishes of fish and the sweet cakes
filled with honey and spices and poppy seeds. My sisters and I
had helped too, strewn fragrant herbs and grasses on the ta
blecloth in remembrance of the first Christmas that had
dawned in a stable, and hung the Christmas tree with sweets
and red apples from the garden.

"No, not apples" . . . said Madame Klempinska . . .
"Paper dolls. I used to make them for a full month before
Christmas, and we had cakes on our tree instead of sweets/

"Toys are the best" . . . said a deep bass voice from the
doorway . . . "My father used to carve them out of wood
for us in the winter evenings." . . .

It was the tall German sentry who could speak a little Pol
ish and wanted to join in the conversation. So he told us stories
of Christmas in his peasant home in Bavaria where he and his
brothers had gone out into the forest and cut down a young
fir tree to be brought and decorated by the mother with toys
and gingerbread and little almond cakes made in the shape of
crowns for the Kingdom of the Babe of Bethlehem.

Then we talked of the war and he asked me why the Polish
Legions were in it ... "We hear that they were not mobi
lized as we were, but that they volunteered of their own free
will" ... he said . . . "My comrades and I have often won
dered why. Do you Poles love the Emperor Franz Josef so
much then that you would shed your blood for him?"

I explained that we loved our freedom and were fighting
for that.

"Ah, that is what the whole world would fight for if we
knew how" ... he answered . . . "The Socialists promised
it to us, but I do not believe that we shall get it although I am
a Socialist. . . ."

THE WHITE EAGLE 247

Of the war he seemed to know nothing except where it
directly concerned him. For him it was narrowed down to
his own officers, his own battalion, the strip of Front on
which he had fought the Russians. Of the wider issues he
had scarcely even heard. He said in his soft Bavarian Ger
man . . .

"Gnadige Frau, I see that you have had much more educa
tion than I or any of the men in my regiment, so perhaps you
can answer for me a question I have often asked myself. Why
precisely are we fighting this War?"

Remembering the Russian prisoners from whom I had so
often heard the same words, I thought how heavy was the
moral responsibility of the rulers who had sent out those vast
masses of men, in blind obedience to destroy one another.

Madame Klempinska and I remained at Szczypiorno until
the middle of February, and then we were sent for by the
Commandant who told us that he had arranged for us to be
transferred to another camp at Lauban, where he believed we
should be much more comfortable. Then he said good-bye to
us as courteously as though we had been his guests instead
of his prisoners. I have nothing but pleasant recollections of
this man who was the best type of German cultured, kind
and considerate.

Lauban was a pretty little town in Silesia, surrounded
with woods which were carpeted with wild flowers later in
the year. In February, however, it was intensely cold and
we shivered as we walked between guards across the quad
rangle to the women s quarters. It was a mixed camp,
consisting of a number of enormous wooden huts holding
thousands of prisoners of war and civilians, all separated from
one another by wooden palisades. Qvilians were in one
section, French prisoners of war in another, Russians in a
third and two Englishmen had one all to themselves in solitary
state. A great many of the civilians were Lithuanians who
had been evacuated from villages in the firing line. The
women and children, who numbered several hundred, were
next to us and to pass the time I gave lessons in Polish to
many of them. Our hut housed a curious assortment of types
and nationalities: Madame Klempinska and myself, a French

248 PILSUDSKI

governess who had been unable to escape from Warsaw before
the German occupation of the city, a beautiful Polish girl,
who had been the mistress of a well-known Russian spy and
was suspected of being herself an international agent, and an
other woman who owned a large estate behind the firing line
and was married to a Polish officer.

The camp life at Lauban was far more pleasant than at
Szczypiorno. We were allowed a certain amount of liberty
and could even go to the town to buy what we could get
(which was not much) at the local store. It was soon sold out
of such luxuries as tinned meat, chocolates, and soap. As the
months passed the shortage of food grew serious and rations
were cut down more and more drastically both for us and for
the soldiers who guarded us. The French prisoners of war
suffered the least for nearly all of them had "marraines," under
the French war charities scheme, who sent them parcels of
food. The German officers were glad to buy chocolate from
them, although they were too proud to deal with them di
rectly, and one of the women in our hut, the wife of the Polish
officer, used to act as go-between. She was an exceedingly
pretty woman, very popular with the gallant Frenchmen. The
long conversations which she used to hold with them over the
palisade kept the occupants of our hut supplied with news
both of the camp and of the outside world. The latter was
generally either inaccurate, founded on the gossip of sentries,
or stale, taken from newspapers weeks old, but we welcomed
it and passed it round among ourselves.

In a community like ours national characteristics asserted
themselves strongly. The two Englishmen, true to the pro
verbial reserve of their race, kept rigidly to their own society,
bowed and smiled amiably at their fellow prisoners when they
encountered them on their way to town, but resisted all at
tempts at closer acquaintance. The Russians, almost without
exception simple, uneducated peasants, accepted their lot with
dreary fatalism but made no effort to get the best out of it.
The Frenchmen, many of whom were professional men, law
yers, doctors and clerks, were, on the other hand, philosophi
cal and good-humoured, organized concerts and provided the
entire social life of the camp.

THE WHITE EAGLE 249

The concerts which were held every week were very pop
ular and revealed a surprising amount of talent, although after
many months the program grew rather stale. A Polish girl
from Lithuania who was well-known on the professional stage
used to sing, and the French usually contributed a sketch. But
personally I got more amusement out of the grouping of the
audience than from the actual program.

This was arranged with the German love of etiquette and
social procedure which could even extend to a prison camp.
We were all rigidly graded. In the front row were the Ger
man officers, in the second the "Bessere Dame" (Better
Women) as the occupants of our hut and a few of the Lithu
anians were classified. Then came the "bessere" French, which
meant French prisoners of war who had been professional
men in civilian life. With these were the Russian doctors.
(The two Englishmen were conveniently disposed of in a
corner which eliminated the problem of their social status.)
Behind the "bessere" French were the "ordinary" French, and
last of all the "ordinary" Russians, who were a picturesque
assembly . . . Cossacks, Kalmuks, tall slender Sartes, hand
some Caucasians.

In one hut were several women who were kept apart from
the rest, classified, with true Germanic directness, as "prosti
tutes." Actually only one of them merited the name as a pro
fessional. The rest had been forced by starvation to sell them
selves in the streets of Warsaw. Two of them had been teach
ers in private schools which had closed because of the war,
another had been a saleswoman in an exclusive dressmaker s
shop which had also put up its shutters, a fourth had been
secretary to a rich foreign woman who had hurried back to
her own country at the first threat of war* Behind each one
was an individual tragedy.

Their lot at the camp was unspeakably wretched. They
were subjected to countless humiliating restrictions, and were
openly insulted by the guards when they went out for exercise.
Yet at night the young soldiers used to climb over the pali
sade into their huts and force them to accede to them. One of
them, a girl of seventeen who had been sent for detention
with her mother, cried so bitterly when she told me of this

250 PILSUDSKI

nightly degradation that I protested to the German doctor
attached to the camp. He seemed surprised at what he evi
dently thought a most unreasonable complaint, reminded me
that the women were prisoners, and that it was wartime. He
flatly refused to do anything in the matter. Eventually matters
were brought to a head by an open scandal.

We were sitting in our hut one evening when a Lithuanian
woman burst in screaming that all the women in Hut Number
X were dying. "Number X" was what was officially known
as "The Prostitutes Quarters."

We hurried there and found some of the women writhing
in agony while others sat on their mattresses crying. In the
extremity of their misery they had broken up the contents of
several packets of needles and swallowed them.

We sent one of the guards for the doctor but he came back
with the report that he could not be found and that the dis
pensary was locked. The nearest hospital was miles away and
time was precious. We had no medicine or any means of
treating the poor women, and we could think of only one
remedy. Fortunately the kascha for our evening meal had
just been cooked. We fetched great bowls of it and forced it
down their throats. It saved their lives for although some of
them were very ill they recovered.

Their tragic attempt at suicide was reported to the Com
mandant of the camp and an inquiry was instituted. As a re
sult the youngest of the girls was, at our request, allowed to
come to our hut.

The spring days lengthened into summer and the summer
into autumn and still we remained at Lauban. The news from
the outer world grew more and more confused. We heard
of the collapse of Russia and of German victories on the
Western Front. Yet the guards at the camp were withdrawn
and replaced by men too old for the firing line; we shivered
in the intense cold of September and October because there
ws no fuel for heating the camp, and every day the food got
less. At length our daily ration was a tiny slice of bread made
of a mixture of coarse flour and potatoes, and a plateful of
turnips boiled in ox blood. We could only bring ourselves to
eat it by holding our noses and swallowing it like medicine.

THE WHITE EAGLE 251

I remember almost weeping with gratitude when one of the
prisoners of war who had been working on a neighbouring
farm gave me some potatoes which he had secreted in his
pocket.

It was difficult to keep one s morale. Even the French lost
their cheerful optimism; the German guards were as depressed
as the prisoners. But worse than the actual hardships, to me
at least, was the continued absence of news. The year 1916
was drawing to its close and month after month had gone by
without a letter from Joseph Pilsudski. I had heard, more or
less vaguely, from the German soldiers at the camp that he
was with his Legions behind the Styr and that the fighting
had been very heavy there during the summer. I tried to com
fort myself with the thought that if he had been killed or taken
prisoner I should have seen it in the German newspapers
which reached the camp fairly regularly. I wrote to him many
times, but my letters were unanswered. Afterwards I discov
ered that none of them had reached him. I tried to get in touch
with other friends and to obtain news of the different organ
izations for which I had worked, but with no better success.
I could only wait.

Then one evening during the first week of November I
was stopped as I was leaving the camp concert by a German
officer, a young lawyer who had often shown me small kind
nesses. . . .

"I think that this will be your last concert here," he said
with a smile.

"Why should it be?" I asked.

"Because you will be free in a day or two. Germany has
proclaimed the independence of Poland."

In less than a week I was on my way back to Warsaw.

The year 1916 had been critical for the Central Powers.
In July the Russians had rallied unexpectedly and under
General Brusilov launched a tremendous offensive which broke
the Austrian front. Germany, who needed every man she
could conscript for the Western front, had grown alarmed at
the demands made upon her to hold up her weak-kneed ally

252 PILSUDSKI

and turned envious eyes on the teeming population of Poland.
By some means or other these millions of recruits, fresh fodder
for the Russian guns, must be annexed, said Ludendorff . If
the price was Poland s independence then it must be paid. No
doubt it would cause political complications with Hungary
and prove a hindrance to the Germanization of Prussian Poles,
but these things could be dealt with after the war. For the
present the one essential was victory and it could only be
achieved with the aid of more man-power. So German opposi
tion to a free Poland was withdrawn. Austria was urged to
participate in a joint policy of conciliation.

Pilsudski in the meantime was waging two wars, one at the
front where the Legions were bearing the brunt of the fiercest
fighting during the Russian offensive, the other in the political
field where he was stubbornly resisting the attempt by the
Austrians and the N.K.N. to shelve the question of Poland s
independence and absorb the Legions into the Landsturm.
He summoned a Council of Colonels at which it was unani
mously decided to press once again for a definite answer from
Austria and to demand that all the Legions should be united
with the status of a Polish army.

In July Brusilov s offensive reached its height, broke the
Austrian front and launched a heavy attack on the Polish
forces at Kostiuchnowka. For three days the three Brigades
of Legions withstood the incessant battering of two divisions
of Russian infantry and four divisions of cavalry, and then,
in obedience to orders from the Austrian Commander-in-Chief ,
withdrew in perfect order though their losses in both officers
and men had been colossal. They took up new positions on
the Stochod, and began to fortify their lines.

For Pilsudski, who had led his troops throughout the
battle, the moment was one of mingled pride and bitterness.
He was proud of the magnificent bearing his men had shown
tinder the pounding of heavy artillery fire which they had
been unable to return, and bayonet charges in which they had
been outnumbered by three to one. His Legionaries . . . that
"army of amateurs," as the Austrian officers had called them,
who had left thek university desks and their workmen s
benches to follow him in pursuit of a dream, had fought with

THE WHITE EAGLE 253

the valour and sang-froid of veteran troops. But he was filled
with bitterness at the thought that the men who had died so
gloriously had shed their blood in the interests of foreigners.
Of what use their heroic sacrifice if it could not buy the free
dom of Poland? Two years had passed since the Polish Le
gions had entered the war* What had they attained? In his
order to the First Brigade on August 6th, 1916, their second
anniversary, he wrote . . .

"When I led you out from the walls of Cracow and entered
with you the towns and townships of the Kingdom I saw
always before me a ghost, risen from the grave of our fathers,
the ghost of a soldier without a country. The future alone
will show whether we too will go down to history as such,
whether we shall only leave behind us the short weeping of
women, and long tales told by kinsmen at night. . . ."

With that ghost ever present in his mind he sent in his
resignation on July 29th. He did not receive notification of
its acceptance until September. The Germans had wished to
accept it immediately. Von Beseler, the Governor of Warsaw,
had all along distrusted his political activities and urged the
formation of a Polish state with recruiting for an army in
dependent of the Legions. But the Austrians, more aware of
the extent of his influence, hesitated. Already all the officers
of the Legions had sent in a memorial to the N.K.N. de
manding to be established as a Polish army, fighting under a
Polish provisional government for Polish independence. At
Cracow a gold medal had been presented to Pilsudski accom
panied by an address with 50,000 signatures. If Poland was to
be conciliated the conciliation had better be whole-hearted.

So on November 5th, 1916, with a flourish of trumpets and
a great show of magnanimity Poland was proclaimed an in
dependent state "united in friendship and in interests" with
both Germany and Austria.

Pilsudski, who had retired to Cracow, heard the news and
returned to Warsaw.

The effect of the first proclamation was spoilt by the fact
that it was followed within a week by another announcing
that the Central Powers would continue temporarily to ad
minister the affairs of the new Polish state, and asking for

254 PILSUDSKI

Polish soldiers. The reaction was immediate. Only a Polish
Government could order Poles to go to war. The celebrations
were cancelled. Indignant protests arose on all hands. Pilsud-
ski in a letter to the Rector of the University of Warsaw
voiced the general opinion when he wrote . . .

"If my own government ordered me in time of war to
clean boots I would do it without hesitation; if it told me to
enlist in an army of Cingalese I would obey. But on the other
hand, since we have no government of our own, I say with
out reserve that if I were to go to war it would be to obtain
one for us/*

The Central Powers, realizing their blunder, made haste
to rectify it and created a Provisional Council of State which
assembled for the first time on January i4th, 1917. Pilsudski
was one of its members and was given the Army portfolio.
He had no illusions as to the difficulties he would have to
encounter in the post. , . .

"I am afraid of it, even though I want it" ... he says
in a letter written to me at this time ... "I am afraid be
cause many heavy and unpleasant burdens will be laid upon
me and once more, sword in hand, I shall have to achieve
practical things, which will not always be understood, which
will make me unpopular. But I want it because I shall have
to fight again, and that is what I love. I want to live more
widely, more comprehending than I have done before." . . .

He returned to Warsaw at the end of December 1916 and
took over his new duties in a modest little office in the city.
He rented the apartment of friends, who were absent in the
country and lived in the simplest manner possible, both from
choice and from necessity, for his salary was a merely nominal
one. THhere was little but barren glory attached to the post
of Minister for the Army. Of that there was sometimes too
much for his liking. He was astounded at the warmth of his
reception whenever he appeared in public. Without realizing
it he had become a legend. In those first difficult months in
his new office he gained the trust of the populace and the
devotion of thousands of simple people, peasants and working
men.

The women too gave him their unswerving confidence and

THE WHITE EAGLE 255

loyalty. The flower of patriotism had always grown more
hardily among them than among the men of Poland, for since
the majority of them did not go out to work they had been
less susceptible to Russian influence. They had been the first
to recognize the awakening of the spirit of freedom and iden
tify themselves with it. To their support in those days of
struggle Pilsudski and his Legions owed much. . . .

"They realized the beauty in the life of the Legionary"
... he wrote of them, "the pride which had defied the world
and sent him out sword in hand to win, if not admiration, at
least respect for the Polish soldier. Setting their feet in his
footprints they marched behind him." . . .

While he rejoiced at the public s recognition of his beloved
Legions his personal popularity caused him nothing but dis
may. In a letter to me he writes characteristically:

"I fear this new-born adulation, and I am already be
coming enslaved by it. Just as in the past I have lived
under the ban* of the police I dream now of coming under
the ban of the public who always torment their elected
favourites. There are sometimes funny scenes and situa
tions resulting from this public interest, but sometimes I
get furious and then I have to take consolation from the
fact that fortunately my photographs have no resemblance
to me, and when I am in civilian dress I am not recognized
in the streets or in cafes." . . .

For the first time in his life he, who had so often been,
as he said, "under the ban of the police," a fugitive, slipping
over frontiers, fleeing from place to place, found honours and
compliments showered upon him. His speeches were quoted
far and wide, journalists waited to interview him, he was
deluged with invitations. It was one of the penalties attendant
upon success, but it was a source of distress rather than
satisfaction to him for he was not deceived by it. He felt
the real loneliness of his position then, as he was so often to
feel it later. Intensely sensitive to the reactions of those
around him he craved the understanding which is almost
invariably denied to the man called to the arduous task of
leadership. . . .

PILSUDSKI

"I have always been accustomed to solitude" . . * he writes
in another letter to me ... "and to dreaming and ruminat
ing in my own company. But in this war I think that I
must attain the summit always alone, always without com
panions and without shelter, whether in sorrow and weari
ness, in the ecstasy of pride or the depth of humiliation. It
may sound poetical, but sometimes it is sad to outstrip those
around you and find yourself without comrades and friends.
I am longing at this moment to take off this uniform and be
like a child who laughs and is happy because it does not
know the meaning of hate, can say as many foolish things
as it wishes and amuse itself without a theatre or stilts.

"I have had a foretaste here in Cracow of what I shall
have in Warsaw. I am surrounded with meetings, banquets,
formalities, speeches and receptions. I think of it all with the
utmost dread, as a terrible ordeal which I am obliged to go
through. But imagine what it is to me, who have never been
accustomed to all these manifestations of national sentiment.
Up to the present I have retained my Lithuanian character
which cannot bear ostentation and recoils in protest from
making a public spectacle. I never know how to act on those
occasions, and sometimes I have a mad impulse to put out
my tongue at them all, like a child! Just because of this I
have to put on a most severe and forbidding expression when
I am greeted with a long speech."

CHAPTER XIX

POLAND S MUCH-PROCLAIMED independence existed in name
only. Germany and Austria kept a firm hold on the helm
of State. The armies of occupation were flung far and wide
over the country. The Temporary Council of State, which
included among its members many sincere patriotic and able
politicians, was bound hand and foot, permitted to pass no
measure until they had received von Beseler s seal of approval.
Those who had cherished high hopes of freedom were speedily
undeceived.

Pilsudski had not shared their illusions. From the first he
recognized the flimsy structure of the newly-created state, and
saw through the fiction of a free people which Germany would
foster for just as long as it suited her own ends. But there was
at least some basis to work upon. The fiction might eventually
become fact. He would accept the existing situation and en
deavour to make the best of it. . . .

"I am a realist" ... he said in an interview which he gave
to one of the newspapers at this time ... "I take things as
they are, not as I would like to see them. I strive, as I have
always striven, to look at them without illusion. I profess,
whole-heartedly, the principle of the world s greatest man,
Napoleon. The art of overcoming obstacles is the art of not
regarding them as such. We Poles are unfortunately too prone
to create obstacles. Throughout our history we have always
lacked practical achievement. In a narrow sphere we obtain
good results: outside it we shrink back from every obstacle.
Hence the argument that Poles cannot create." . . ,

He had indeed many obstacles to overcome in his task of
building up the army. The Council of State, engrossed in
their own struggle against German influence, could give him
little help. The Polish people having had no army of their
own for a century were not particularly interested in the
formation of one, and reacted coldly to recruiting schemes.

257

258 PILSUDSKI

More serious was the question of von Beseler s interference.

The German Governor had decided ideas on the subject of
the Polish Army for it figured prominently in his plans. It
was in fact the one reason which had made him urge the
advisability of giving Poland her independence. Millions of
young Poles formed into an army modelled on German lines
and led by Germans would be a rival asset for the Central
Powers. But between him and that roseate dream stood the
one man who was capable of realizing it for him, Pilsudsld.
Pilsudski, who was resolutely determined to keep his army
independent at all costs and was therefore using as its frame
not the Legions which were still more or less tied to Austria
and Austrophil politics, but the wider, freer P.O.W., the very-
organization which von Beseler intended to suppress.

From the very start then there was friction, although the
German Governor, who was a diplomatist as well as a soldier,
was too wise to force an issue. He was well aware that Pilsudski
held the confidence of the common people, and that he was
perhaps the one man who could call the nation to arms. For
the present then he was necessary to Germany s schemes and
must be tolerated.

As for Pilsudski: he was devoting the full output of that
dynamic energy of his to the task in front of him. On January
1 7th, 1917, in the presence of the Council of State, he held
a march past of all the Warsaw branches of the P.O.W.,
during which an assurance was given pledging the loyal sup
port of the entire organization and placing all its resources
at the disposal of the Government. At the meeting of the
Council later that day he was acclaimed by the President and
the whole assembly rose to do him honour.

A month later hundreds of representatives from all parts
of Poland, gathered in Warsaw for the Congress summoned
by the Council of State to discuss co-operation between the
Government and the populace, cheered him to the echo when
he addressed them on the subject of a national army. In his
practical way he told them that the army was as necessary
to the state as the state was to the army. . . . "The soldier
must have a government if he is to be a soldier and the govern
ment must have soldiers if it is to be a government." They

THE WHITE EAGLE 259

promised him full collaboration. Plans were begun on a rising
tide of enthusiasm.

His success of those early months of 1917 was only a flash
in the pan. Even with promising material to work upon and
with all the goodwill in the world he could do little without
the Government, and the unfortunate Temporary Council of
State was crippled by Germany. As the weeks passed its mem
bers grew more disheartened and the nation, which had hoped
great things of it and received nothing, more dissatisfied. The
German Commissioner who took his seat at every meeting
vetoed any real measure of progress. Its debates became a mere
farce and the more sincere politicians among its ranks ceased to
attend them, leaving the road still clearer for German influ
ence. Pilsudski entered the lists again and again in an unequal
contest. He had indeed prophesied truly when he had said that
his appointment as Minister for the Army would mean an
other fight. During his brief term of office the sword was
never out of his hand. At one moment he was stubbornly re
sisting von Beseler s Germanization plans. At the next he was
arguing with the Council of State, championing the cause of
his Legions who were receiving insufficient supplies of food
and clothing, even while, at the bidding of Germany, an ex
tensive recruiting campaign was being carried on. . . .

"For my brave Legions" ... he wrote indignantly to a
friend ... "I deplore the burden placed on their young
shoulders of fighting for the rights and honour of the nation,
amid a passive people. Still more do I deplore the fact that
I cannot be with them to help bear their heavy cross. Fate
has made me turn politician, but every instinct draws me to
my brothers under arms. Of course, when I speak of soldiers
I do not mean those heroes of the rear who are the curse of
the Polish army in the World War. You ask me about the
P.O.W. From the birth of the Council of State it has stood
to arms, like my Riflemen in August 1914. It is happier than
they, for it can answer the call of its own Polish Government."

In the meantime Poland was caught up in the maelstrom
of world changes. Events were moving in the Great War.
President Wilson had demanded a free and independent
Poland. The Russian Revolution of March 1917 had

260 PILSUDSKI

about the defeat of Czarism. The new government in St. Peters
burg proclaimed Polish independence. The hammer blows of
the Allies on the Western Front, coupled with the entry of the
United States into the war, were beginning to turn the scales
against Germany. More troops were urgently needed for the
Kaiser s armies on both fronts. Von Beseler, in response to
promptings from Berlin, pressed the Temporary Council of
State to call up the Polish army to fight under the German
High Command wherever it was required.

Pilsudski protested that such a measure was flatly against
international law which forbade any Power in occupation of
another country to recruit troops from that country for use
in war- The Polish army had no political role, he insisted, it
had been formed for the defence of the country. The Legions
had taken their oath of allegiance to Austria, and had ful
filled it, but that in no way bound them to fight for Germany
to whom they owed nothing.

His words fell on stony ground. The Council of State, that
"dead institution built upon a fiction," as he had called it,
would do nothing.

Von Beseler s project produced an immediate reaction. On
June iyth, P.O.W. severed its connection with the Council of
State. The Legions, with the exception of one brigade,* re
fused to take the oath which would have bound them to obey
as their Commander-in-Chief the German Emperor.

Pilsudski, as the only army representative in the Council of
State, decided that he could no longer bear his responsibilities.
He was heart and soul in agreement with these men who had
been his comrades-in-arms. He would do them the one service
that lay in his power. He sent in his resignation.

Germany s retaliation was swift. The Legions were broken
up. The Legionaries from Russian Poland were sent to con
centration camps; the Austrian subjects were drafted to the
Italian front.

Von Beseler invited Pilsudski to visit him at the Belvedere
Palace. His manner was friendly and disarming. It was ab
surd that they should fall out, he said, when they were in a
position to aid one another. He had only Poland s interests

* The Second Brigade commanded by General Haller.

THE WHITE EAGLE 261

at heart and, unfortunately, the Poles were so often blind to
their own interests, so incapable of seeing wherein lay their
advantages. He talked in this strain for ten minutes or more
until Pilsudski, who loathed hypocrisy and was growing angry,
asked him bluntly what he wanted. . . .

The German Governor, looking pained at so crude a ques
tion, explained that Poland, always strictly in her own inter
ests, needed a strong army. Pilsudski could create one for her
immediately by throwing in his lot with Germany . . .

"You can be one of the greatest military leaders of to
day" ... he urged . . . "You have never had a scope wide
enough. We will give it to you. You shall have the modern
armament you have always wished for, and first-class sup
plies for your men. As for yourself we offer you whatever
you wish, fame, power, honours. If you join us it will be to
our mutual gain. . . ."

"You are mistaken" . . . answered Pilsudski . . . "You
would gain one Pole, perhaps, but I should lose a whole
nation!" . . .

A few days later, on July 2 2nd, 1917, he was arrested with

Sosnkowski and taken as a prisoner to Germany.
. .

The months between my release from the internment camp
at Lauban in November 1916 and Pilsudski s arrest in the
following July passed quickly, probably because every hour
of the day was filled. I went to work in the office of a factory
which dried and packed vegetables. But apart from the neces
sity of earning enough to pay the monthly bills, which was
not easy for prices mounted steadily, there was so much to
be done in those wartime years. Many parts of the country
had been laid waste in the fighting; the constantly changing
fronts had put to flight the civilian populace of first one dis
trict and then another, and thousands of people had been
rendered homeless. The big cities were full of refugees from
the war zones, most of them looking in vain for work. Food
was growing scarcer every month, and there were outbreaks
of typhus. All these problems had to be dealt with by the
various voluntary organizations.

Most of my time was absorbed by the Liga Kobiet. This

262 PILSUDSKI

was an organization which was formed at the same time as
the Strzelcy by a little group of women. During the war its
membership increased to about 20,000 and branches were
opened all over Poland. Its primary object was the welfare
of the Legions and most of its work was carried out behind
the lines. In the case of a modern, well-organized and well-
equipped army there would be no necessity for it, but in these
early days of the Polish Army some sort of provision for the
physical comfort of the troops was essential. It was responsible
for the running of canteens, the supply and distribution of
clothing, and for such details as Christmas parcels and enter
tainments. It also carried out a great deal of propaganda
work.

The linking up of the various branches which were scattered
all over the country was no small undertaking in view of the
limited transport available in wartime. I had to spend every
week-end on journeys which would normally have taken a
few hours but which then took the greater part of the day.
I shall always remember going to organize the first branch
in a village buried in the heart of the country. To my dismay
I discovered that the only means of getting there and back
was by walking, a distance of twenty-five kilometres each
way. Fortunately it was early summer so I was able to set
out at daybreak, and reached my destination soon after mid
day. After opening the branch and enrolling the first mem
bers I rested for an hour or so and then started on the return
journey. The road lay through cool forest avenues and
fields carpeted with flowers, and the fresh breeze with its faint
tang of pine was so welcome after the close, dust-laden air
of the factory that I quite enjoyed the walk. But I was so
tired when I arrived home that I had to spend most of the
next day in bed.

After Pilsudski s imprisonment I was obliged to give up all
social and political work, for I was kept under constant super
vision by the German Secret Police who visited me every
week, opened all my correspondence and observed my move
ments. I knew that the barest pretext would be sufficient for
my arrest and I did not wish to run the risk of an internment
camp again.

THE WHITE EAGLE 263

My daughter Wanda was born while her father was in a
German prison. By an irony of fate the knowledge that one
of his dearest wishes in life was to be granted came at a bitter
moment.

During those winter months I had many doubts and mis
givings because my world was not a very happy place into
which to bring a child. A country in the throes of war, uncer
tain of its destiny, and a life which did not seem to hold out
much hope of ease or security; this was the only heritage which
I could offer. And I worried, too, because I was forced by
necessity to live under conditions which were everything
science would have most condemned long hours of work in a
factory, insufficient food, and that generally of the wrong
kind. The lack of fuel made cooking at home practically im
possible, and I had to eat at one of the communal kitchens,
where the staple diet was soup, kascha, and occasionally a little
horseflesh. Butter was an undreamed-of luxury, and so was al
most every other kind of fat. White flour was unobtainable ex
cept to a few smart teashops patronized by the German officers,
who demanded their usual supplies of rich cakes and pastries
though the populace was reduced to bread made from chaff,
which was so coarse and unappetizing that I often went hungry
because I could not eat it. But I was more fortunate than most
people in Warsaw, for I had at least plenty of vegetables. The
director of the dried vegetable factory where I worked, a kind
and generous man, instituted at my suggestion a wartime
garden for his employees and gave each of us an allotment.
There we grew our own beetroots, cabbages and beans, and as
I have always loved gardening I spent as much time as I could
working on mine, with the result that I was soon producing
more than I could eat.

In spite of her mother s fears, my Wanda gave the lie to
science, for she was the healthiest and most contented of babies.
She came into the world one snowy afternoon in February.
I worked until within a few hours of driving to the maternity
hospital where she was born, and when she was eleven days old
I was back at my desk again. I wanted to bring her up myself
and as there were small apartments in the building of the factory
where I worked I took one of them. There I had to leave her

264 PILSUDSKI

quite alone for the greater part of the day, securely tucked up
in bed. But I used to run along the corridor many times to feed
her or to see that she was sleeping properly*

It was absurd how helpless I felt at first when I was con
fronted with the daily needs of this little human being who
could so easily be damaged by my inexpert handling, although
I expect many mothers have shared the same feeling. How
ever, I primed myself with various books on the management
of babies and a woman friend who had successfully brought
up a large family of her own initiated me in the mysteries of
the evening bath, which was my worst ordeal. After a while I
worked out a daily routine which did not clash with office
hours. It was probably unorthodox from an expert s point of
view, but Wanda seemed to thrive on it, and grew sturdy and
self-reliant. I used to carry her out in the park during my
lunch hour every day, and in the evenings when the weather
was warm, and on Sundays she was taken for airings by relays
of volunteers, for we had many friends, and her chief danger
came from too much spoiling.

After several weeks of being transferred from one prison to
another, Joseph Pilsudski was finally taken to the citadel of
Magdeburg, where he was assigned a suite of rooms which had
been recently vacated by a Belgian General, a prisoner of war.
It amused him to realize that the German reverence for military
etiquette was to be duly observed. The orderlies who waited
upon him saluted him punctiliously and treated him with
deference, resolved never to forget that although he might be a
prisoner he was also a Brigadier, and his quarters were made
as comfortable as possible. They consisted of three rooms on
the first floor, a bedroom, a dining-room and another room
which he called "the salon," although he never received any
visitors there.

His isolation was complete. The little garden opening out
of his apartment in which he used to walk every day was cut
oif fro;n the world by the great wall of rock which had been
part of the old fortress, an armed sentry paced up and down its
asphalt walks, and another stood on guard at the palisade
separating it from the main courtyard of the citadel. For

THE WHITE EAGLE 265

nearly twelve months, until Sosnkowski was sent to join him,
he saw no one but the guards. For this reason we were unable
to carry out the plan which we had formed for his escape.
Even his brother was refused permission to visit him and we
had therefore no means of establishing contact. He was
allowed no Polish newspapers and only one or two letters of
the hundreds which were written to him ever reached him.
Even the telegram telling him of the birth of our daughter was
kept from him and she was several weeks old before he learned
of her arrival It was equally difficult for him to communicate
with us. Months after he had been set free the Germans sent
me over a hundred letters which he had written to me from
Magdeburg. Yet only a very few had reached me during the
time he was there. Here is one of them; I suppose it was not
intercepted because while so many of the others touched on
national events, and on things which would seem of importance
in German eyes, this is just the simple letter which any hus
band might write:

"My dearest Ola,

"I was so glad to have all the details of you and of our
child. I laughed so much at the idea of bringing her up
according to the last word in science and progress! Al
though I cannot, unfortunately, have a direct hand in this
I am relieved to hear that it is being done! For instance,
your last card gave me something to think about for weeks.
Le bon Dieu had endowed me with a large share of imagina
tion, but even so I cannot imagine this young lady of two
months doing gymnastics on the Muller system every morn
ing, poor little thing, and appearing, as you say, to enjoy it.
Has she already learned to laugh?

"I was afraid that was not a very good idea of yours
to put Wanda s photograph among the cakes you sent me
because I have received neither the cakes nor the photo
graph. So will you send me another photograph in a letter?
I am curious to see what my daughter looks like.

"You would be pleased if you knew how little I
smoke at present, partly because of my own decision

266 PILSUDSKI

and partly because of the lack of cigarettes and tobacco.

"Write and tell me more of the baby. I am grateful for
even the most trivial details; as I cannot see her they make
me imagine that we are all together."

The solitude and monotony of Magdeburg were not un
bearable to him although he fretted at the waste of time. He
was never afraid of his own company, and his imagination
was so vivid and so pliant that it could people even a prison cell.
One afternoon, for instance, was spent in planning an im
aginary attack on Wilno, another in drawing up a future
constitution for Poland. Much of his time was given to writ
ing. He had always wanted to record some of his wartime
experiences. This was his first opportunity of doing so. He
obtained writing materials from the prison authorities by
telling them that he wished to draw up a formal complaint
to the German Government on the illegality of his arrest and
that he would require a large quantity of paper as owing to
his limited knowledge of German he would have to make
many rough drafts. On this pretext they supplied him with
sufficient to enable him to write his accounts of Ulina Mala
and Marcinkowice, although the manuscripts were almost il
legible, for he had to reduce his writing to half its normal
size.

In August 1918 the monotony of his imprisonment was
broken by the arrival of Sosnkowski. In a letter to me, which
is dated September 3rd, he describes their daily routine. . . .

"This is to tell you that I have not been alone since last
week. They have given me Sosnkowski to share my lot,
and the hours seem to pass more quickly. We have man
aged to have several games of chess, and we have been
allowed to go for walks together behind the walls of the
citadel. I should like to have some civilian clothes for
these walks, a jersey and overcoat if it is possible for you
to send them. At present our life is organized in this way:
dinner and supper are sent in to us from the town, and
breakfast and tea we have to prepare ourselves. We are
both getting quite resourceful in this, but we must not let
our supply of tea and sugar run out. You will know what

THE WHITE EAGLE 267

we need.

"At last I have received the photograph of Wanda.
From what you had told me I had expected her to be more
like me. So far I can only trace my high forehead which I
fear will not be an advantage to a girl! I am looking for
ward to seeing the other photograph which you have
promised to send me when the young lady is older and has
more definite features. This one is all big eyes very wide
open, and looking rather afraid of life. You tell me that she
has not been well and that you have not yet gone to the
country. You must go. I was so happy to think of you with
Wanda and our friends in the fresh country air. . . ."

In Warsaw the year 1918 sped by on the wings of unrest.
The hand of Germany which had held the tortured country
in a vice was beginning to tremble and relax its grip; already
the end was in sight. The German troops in occupation were
constantly being recalled and replaced by others, generally
by men convalescent from wounds received on the Western
Front. The officers had lost their elan. They no longer swag
gered through the streets, forcing the civilians to step off
the sidewalk for them. They sat dejectedly in the cafes instead
of in noisy groups drinking to their successes. Their men
looked utterly weary and half-starved, which indeed they
were.

As the autumn waned a gathering current of revolt began
to spread through the country. The peasants getting in the
harvest sturdily refused to give up their grain. The soldiers
sent to collect it were too dispirited and indifferent to en
force their orders. In the big industrial cities there were clashes
between the workers and occupying troops, and many were
shot on both sides. Von Beseler and his staff fled before the
storm leaving their subordinates to face it and enforce what
discipline they could.

October passed into November. The death-knell of Imperial
Germany sounded and hope was reborn in Poland. One name
began to be on every one s lips. Pilsudski. The handful of
Legionaries who had escaped imprisonment flung it backwards
and forwards joyously amongst themselves as they came out

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THE WHITE EAGLE 269

of hiding, put on their uniforms, and paraded the streets . . .
"We shall have our Commandant back again . . . "Dziadek
(Grandpapa) will put things right for us!" . . . The loyal
P.O.W., the railwaymen and factory workers and students,
echoed it back . . . "We want Pilsudski" . . . The common
people for whom he had worked and fought through many
thankless years caught it up, cried with one voice, "Pilsudski
for Poland. . . ."

The wave of popular opinion reached the Council of Re
gency which had been set up by the Central Powers and
which was now tottering. The members began to remind one
another that Joseph Pilsudski, whether one had or had not
agreed with his politics, had never feared responsibilities, and
that Poland s urgent need was a strong man to shoulder the
burden of government. Notes were sent to Germany asking
for his release.

Pilsudski used to tell the story of how a grinning orderly
entered the "salon" in Magdeburg where Sosnkowski and he
were playing chess one evening and held out a copy of the
German illustrated newspaper Die Woche. In it was a photo
graph of Pilsudski, "The New Polish Minister of War."
They laughed over it for a moment and then went back to
their game. Neither of them took it seriously. But a few
days later they were taking their usual walk in the garden
when they were approached by two German officers in mufti,
who gave them the astounding news that they were free and
were to start immediately for Berlin whence they would catch
the train to Warsaw. With some embarrassment they explained
that a revolution had broken out in Magdeburg and asked them
to wear civilian clothes and to take as little luggage as possible
to avoid attracting the attention of the crowds who were
demonstrating in the streets.

Bewildered at the sudden turn of events, understanding
only that they were going back to Warsaw they hurriedly got
together a few necessities for the journey. Sosnkowski flung
on an overcoat and packed a small bag; Pilsudski, who had
no civilian clothes with him, was obliged to travel in his uni
form of the Legions, and with a comb, toothbrush and cake
of soap wrapped in a newspaper parcel which he stuffed

270 PIL6UDSKI

into his pocket. Even his precious manuscripts representing
the toil of so many weeks were left behind to be sent on after
wards by the Germans.

The two officers accompanied them to the bridge span
ning the Elbe where a couple of motors were waiting. A few
minutes later they were all speeding along the road to
Berlin.

Parts of Germany were already in the throes of revolution,
but Berlin was comparatively quiet. The train to Warsaw had
been cancelled, however, and they were obliged to spend the
night in a hotel where they were the guests of their escort.
They were awakened next morning by the sounds of shouting
in the streets and the waiter who brought their breakfast told
them that the Kaiser had abdicated.

To their amazement the two ex-prisoners were invited to
lunch by a representative of the Foreign Office, and Pilsudski
was amused at the way in which he was addressed as "Your
Excellency" and given ministerial honours. His host made it
abundantly clear in fact that he was deliberately paving the
way towards Germany s future relations with Poland. On
their way to the station afterwards they passed through streets
almost blocked by crowds of demonstrators waving red flags,
but they were allowed to get into the special train which was
to take them to Warsaw without any trouble.

Meanwhile in Warsaw the whole city was seething with
excitement. The German occupation had cracked like ice,
suddenly. The German soldiers, abandoned by most of their
senior officers and with no orders, roamed about the streets,
dull-eyed and hungry, and surrendered their arms without a
fight. One saw the strange spectacle of men in the uniform
of the best German regiments handing over their rifles and
revolvers to civilians. Fatigue and privations had sapped their
morale, the only thing that concerned them was the problem
of where they were to go, to which no one seemed to have
an answer.

I was living in rooms in one of the suburbs of Warsaw at
that time and there Wanda and I waited for her father. I did
not want to go to the station to meet him for I knew that
the first hour or two must be given over to official business.

THE WHITE EAGLE 271

He arrived at Warsaw just before noon and was met by
Prince Lubomirski, who was one of the members of the Re
gency, and Commander Koe of the P.O.W. For days there
had been crowds at the station watching every train for him,
and the news of his coming spread like wildfire through the
city. Thousands of people lined the streets to cheer him as
he drove to Prince Lubomirskfs house for luncheon.

As soon as he could escape he came to me, but the news
of his arrival had even reached our suburb, and as it was
Sunday afternoon hundreds of factory workers turned out to
welcome him. They lined the streets outside the house where
I was living and stood waiting patiently in the rain for hours.
When at length his carriage drew up at the gate they almost
mobbed him.

Knowing that he hated publicity as much as I did, and
not wanting our meeting to take place in the sight of so many
curious eyes, I remained upstairs, so the door was opened to
him by one of our friends, an elderly lady weighing 210
pounds. On seeing him she was so carried away by her emotion
that she rushed out on to the step and flinging her arms
round him kissed him many times, to the amusement of the
crowd who had not expected such an anti-climax. I heard a
great roar of laughter, followed by his familiar light step in the
hall.

I had been afraid that Wanda would be shy and give him
an unfriendly reception, but apparently in the first few seconds
of their acquaintance she made up her mind to love her father.
She regarded him gravely, head a little on one side, and then
held out her arms to him with a radiant smile. The picture of
that meeting is one which I shall always keep.

He could not stay long for urgent affairs demanded his
presence in Warsaw, so he took a room at a simple little
boarding-house in the city which was kept by a member of
the P.O.W. and remained there until he moved into his official
residence at the Belvedere Palace. It was long after midnight
when he retired to his room on that first night, but there were
still crowds in the street waiting under his window. They
would not disperse until he spoke to them. His heart was too
full for speech, but he told them simply of his happiness at

272 PILSUDSKI

being back among them, and then advised them to go home
to bed before they caught cold in the rain.

It was indeed an hour of great joy to him. He was back in
Warsaw again, in that free Poland for which he had worked
since his boyhood, and he knew that at last he held the confi
dence of his own people. Yet I think that in all that day of
triumph no moment was so sweet to him as when he felt
Wanda s arms thrown round his neck.

CHAPTER XX

THE INDEPENDENT Polish State had been born, but it was so
frail an infant that its survival seemed problematical. Pilsudski,
waking on the morning after his return to Warsaw, that
fateful morning of Monday, November nth, 1918, real
ized that the hardest fight of his life was still in front of
him.

In France the echo of the last gun had quivered into silence.
The diplomatists were composing their speeches for the
conference table. Joyous crowds all over the world were
celebrating the end of the war. But to Poland the peace that
had come so tardily to Europe was only a mockery. She was
free indeed, because the hands that had held her down had
lost their strength. They had left her mangled and bleeding,
to pick herself up out of the dust and heal her wounds. Her
fair fields were laid waste, her cities were in ruins, her people
worn down and wearied by a war which had never been their
war and which had left them with neither the exaltation of
the victor nor the claim to pity of the vanquished. Her
boundaries were still undetermined; enemies surrounded her
on every side. Thousands of German soldiers, far outnumber
ing any Polish force that could be opposed to them, were still
in the country, unable to return to Germany owing to the lack
of transport. Trotsky and his Bolsheviks were waiting the
opportunity to strike: step by step, as the Germans withdrew
farther from the Russian frontier and in the direction of their
own land, the Russians began to advance into Polish territory,
loudly proclaiming their intentions of conquering the world
and aiding the Socialists in Berlin. The Ukrainians were harass
ing the Galician frontier. Volunteers were holding them
back at Lwow. Silesia and Pomerania were still in the hands
of the Germans. The Czechs were preparing to occupy
Cieszyn. And the entire force which Pilsudski, who had taken
up the burden thankfully laid down by the Regency, could
put into the field against all these enemies consisted of three

273

274 PILSUDSKI

thousand Legionaries and fifty thousand men of the P.O.W.!
Afterwards he used to say that he had never dared in
those days to look too far ahead into the future! Through the
whole of that difficult year he could only walk slowly and
patiently, a step at a time.

The most pressing problem confronting him was that of
the German soldiers. Deserted by von Beseler and their of
ficers of high rank they had formed their own Soldiers Council
in Warsaw. It was attempting to cope with the situation,
but in the meantime the men, demoralized and growing out
of hand, were a menace to themselves and to the Poles. So on
that day of the eleventh of November when wounds were
smarting Pilsudski assembled them, and because he was
also a soldier and his heart went out in sympathy to these
men who had fought bravely, been defeated, and were now
left bewildered, without a leader, he made them an appeal
which they could understand. . . .

"German soldiers" ... he said ... "I speak to you
as a State prisoner of your late Government. That Govern
ment drove you to the brink of the abyss, but you have
taken the reins into your own hands and have estab
lished a Soldiers 7 Government of your own. You are spent
by nearly five years of bloody warfare. Your new Govern
ment, your Soldiers Government, aims at bringing you
happily to your homes, to your wives and children, to your
fatherland. Remember that this can only be done if you
give absolute obedience to your new authority. Around
you is a people whom your late Government treated with
unqualified brutality. On behalf of the Polish people, I
tell you that they would not, and will not, avenge the sins
of your Government upon yourselves. Remember that
blood enough has flowed; let not another drop be shed.
I have heard that German soldiers are selling their carbines
and machine-guns to the dregs of the people on the out
skirts of the town. Remember that a soldier does not traf
fic in his arms. I ask you to bear yourselves with perfect
calm, to provoke no more the Polish people, and you will
return as one man to your fatherland. . . ."

THE WHITE EAGLE 275

Outside the building hundreds of Poles had gathered, hav
ing heard the German Soldiers Council was meeting. It was
a crowd remembering old wrongs, vibrant with emotions
that could easily become hostile. But when Pilsudski appeared
on the steps the tension was broken and they cheered him en
thusiastically. Sensing the atmosphere he spoke to them. . . .

"In this building the German Soldiers Council is in ses
sion. It commands all the German detachments stationed
in Warsaw. In the name of the Polish people I have
taken it under my protection. You must offer no offence
to any of its members. I know the bitterness which this
occupation has left amongst us, but I ask of you all not
to let yourselves be carried away by anger and vengeance.
You must show the calm and the restraint of a nation with
a great and glorious destiny. . . ."

The people dispersed contentedly. What might have
been an awkward situation was saved. Within a week the
German forces had left Warsaw, peacefully and without in
cident.

Pilsudski next turned his attention to Lwow, which was
hard pressed by the Ukrainians. The defenders, a mere hand
ful of Legionaries and a volunteer force, many of whom were
only college boys, were putting up an heroic resistance. Al
most the entire population of the city was under arms; even
the women had mobilized to guard ammunition dumps and
bring up supplies, a few of them were actually fighting in the
ranks side by side with the men. But the siege had been going
on for weeks and it was evident that unless help was forthcom
ing the exhausted citizens would be compelled to surrender.

With the small force at his command Pilsudski could do
little, but that little he did immediately. He sent one of his
old Legionaries with a couple of regiments and three batteries
of heavy artillery to the relief of the city. The plan succeeded.
The Ukrainians, believing the Polish troops to be the vanguard
of a much larger force, withdrew, and although they returned
to the attack the respite allowed the defenders, who were now
reinforced by some two thousand fresh troops and a quantity

276 PILSUDSKI

of supplies, to strengthen their fortifications in preparation for
a long siege.

In the meantime Pilsudski, in Warsaw, was concentrating
all his energies on the political situation. The Council of Re
gency, despairing of reconciling the different parties, had de
cided on November nth to dissolve and had invited him to
form a National Government and take over the organization of
the army. He accepted the invitation, although with reluctance,
for he was at heart no politician. Only the fear that the frail
structure of the new State would be rent by hopeless wrangling
and indecision made him take over the responsibility. A few
days later he issued a decree declaring himself temporary Chief
of State, accountable for the government of the country until
a Diet assembled. It was a position calling for the utmost
delicacy of touch. If he held the reins too lightly they would
drop from his hands and Poland would be delivered over to
quarrelling factions: if he pulled them with too much force
the people themselves would rebeL The nation was widely
divided in politics. There were three separate governing
bodies: one which had been set up in Posen, another in Lub
lin, formed on November yth, and a third in Cracow. Not
one of these Governments could be considered the voice of
the country, but collectively they might produce a basis
of unity. Pilsudski, realizing the danger and folly of party
strife at a moment when the very existence of the State
was threatened by foes from without, when an army must
be formed with all possible speed and an economic system
created, summoned representatives of all the different parties
and endeavoured to reconcile them. The attempt was a fail
ure. . . .

"I listened to them for two nights and a day" . . . he wrote
later . . . "It was terrible. Each one had his own views on the
question of government, which were entirely different from
those of the rest, and clung resolutely to them. None would
make any concessions to die rest, or lend themselves to the
formation of a Cabinet. . . ."

It was incomprehensible to him that the glorious realization
of the long-dreamed freedom should be marred by petty po
litical differences . . . "In several weeks" ... he was forced

Jp

a

fa

f*l

[vaiten

278 PILSUDSKI

to admit in bitter disillusionment ... "I did not meet one
man, one group or one party not carried away by an absorb
ing megalomania. . . ."

Faced with the utter impossibility of uniting a large na
tional body he decided to act on his own initiative. He there
fore constituted a government under the presidency of a
Socialist, Daszynski, who had been President of the Lublin
Government, which was thus liquidated. It was a purely pro
visional measure, designed to meet the urgent need for legisla
tion, pending the creation of a Legislative Assembly, which
could be representative of all parties.

The road to political unity was blocked mainly by the
National Democrats. Roman Dmowski, Pilsudski s opponent
in many a battle, had entered the lists once more. Since the
outbreak of the Great War their paths had diverged even more
widely. While Pilsudski had been leading his First Brigade
against the Russians, labouring to create a Polish army in
Warsaw under the German occupation, and pacing the walled
garden of his prison in Magdeburg, Dmowski too had been
fighting, though in a different fashion, for his weapon was a
persuasive tongue. For some time he had been endeavouring
to win the favour of the Allies, and as he had a great aptitude
for personal propaganda, whereas Pilsudski had none, it was
not altogether strange that he should have succeeded in con
vincing them that he and his National Democrats represented
the real Poland, while Joseph Pilsudski was merely a leader
from the Left, who had secured the hearing of the mob in
Warsaw.

The Armistice then found Dmowski installed in Paris with
his Polish National Committee, enjoying the confidence of
Marechal Foch and the other allied leaders, and having also
gained a considerable following in the United States.

During that first momentous week of his return to Warsaw
Pilsudski, realizing the importance of obtaining recognition
for the new-born State, sent wireless messages to the victorious
Allies, to Germany, and all the other Powers, notifying them
that an independent Polish State had been restored, that its
constitution would be founded on a basis of democracy, and
defining the territories of the country which would be known

THE WHITE EAGLE 279

henceforth as "United Poland." To Marechal Foch he sent
at the same time a special appeal asking for the transfer of
the Polish force which was then serving under the supreme
command of the French army. This force, numbering 430
officers and nearly 17,000 men, commanded by General Haller,
was controlled by the Polish National Committee in Paris
which the Entente Cordiale had formally recognized as repre
senting the people of Poland.

Possibly Foch, practical realist, did not wish to add to his
responsibilities by embroiling himself in Polish politics, more
probably he was influenced by Dmowski, but whatever the
reason PilsudskTs request remained unanswered.

The news of this initial setback caused keen disappointment
in Warsaw. At a moment when Poland was in such grave
peril from her enemies even this small force, consisting as it
did of well-trained and experienced troops, would have given
valuable support. But the Allied decision could only be ac
cepted.

In the meantime the National Democrats in Poland flatly
refused to collaborate with Daszynski and therefore Pilsudski,
determined to get together a constitution at all costs, appointed
a more moderate Socialist, Mr. Moraczewski, who succeeded
in forming a Cabinet composed of both Socialists and Radicals.
A few days later a Bill was passed granting equal rights in
franchise to both men and women. Pilsudski supported it
strongly. The women who served with the Legions, the
P.O.W. and other organizations during the war, he said, had
carried out work as important as that of the men. As they
had shared equal dangers in liberating the country they were
entitled to have an equal voice in its ruling.

The elections for the Diet were fixed for January ioth,
1919. Pilsudski ignored the signs of tension and the violent
squabbles of the rival parties, calmly confident that the good
sense of the great mass of the people would triumph. To all
the warring factions he had one answer . . . "You claim to
represent the opinion of the whole country. Only the elections
can decide that. . . ."

As the polling day drew nearer the disunity became still
more apparent. In addition to the non-Polish minorities, Jews,

280 PJLSUDSKI

Ruthenes, White Russians and others, there were some dozen
political parties, each with a different program. All of them
sent their deputations to Pilsudski. The National Democrats
complained querulously of the growing power of the So
cialists, wanted them excluded from the Cabinet. He answered
that a nation could not be governed by one class alone; all
must be represented. The Social Democrats demanded hous
ing reforms, shorter hours and better working conditions.
He told them that the regulations of economic conditions in
Poland could only keep step with the rest of Europe, but
that the Government intended to organize public work for
the unemployed. The Peasants Party and his old party, the
P.P.S., supported him warmly, although some of the latter
accused him of abandoning Socialism.

It was not a question of abandoning it, he replied, and
reminded them that he had already put into practice the
entire minimum program of the party, but the time had
come when Poland must choose between the constructive
socialism of the Western democracies and the destructive
doctrine of Bolshevism, based on class hatred which would
pull down the whole of civilization if it continued to spread.
He appealed to them for the sake of their past loyalty to unite
with him in building up the State which they had fought so
long to liberate. . . .

"My greatest ambition is that Poland should have her first
parliament, and that it should meet peaceably" ... he told
them.

To achieve national unity he was willing to sacrifice any
personal considerations. He sent a delegation to Roman
Dmowski as representative of the National Committee in
Pans urging him for the sake of Poland to join forces at
the Peace Conference. . . .

"Remembering our long acquaintance" ... he wrote to
him ... "I am expressing the hope that under these circum
stances, and in so grave an hour, some Poles at least, if not
alas! all, will rise above cliques and party differences. I desire
most sincerely to see you amongst them. . . ."

At the same time he invited Ignatius Paderewski, the great
Polish pianist and composer, to hold the office of Prime

THE WHITE EAGLE

Minister. Paderewski accepted the offer and immediately left
Paris for Warsaw. I remember that when Pilsudski first told
me of this I was rather surprised at his choice until he
explained his reasons. Paderewski, he pointed out, had
a supreme reputation both in Europe and across the
Atlantic. From the point of view of propaganda abroad, of
which Poland stood badly in need, no man could be more
suitable. Within the country he was not only universally
beloved but he also possessed the merit of bein known as a
patriot but not as a party politician. The first National Gov
ernment would obviously have to walk warily if peace was
to be maintained between the rival parties, and Paderewski
with his enormous personal popularity would be less likely
to rouse hostility than any one else. The national pride in
him would ensure him the co-operation and goodwill of all
factions.

The opening of the Diet was fixed for February 1919, but
before that there was an incident which threatened to crack
the thin ice covering the political undercurrent. A section of
the National Democrats attempted a coup (Fetat which was,
fortunately, foiled at the last moment. Since November 29th
Pilsudski had been in residence at the Belvedere, a large and
gloomy palace. It was only very lightly guarded, for where
his own personal safety was concerned my husband took no
special precautions, even after there had been more than one
attempt on his life. He used to laugh aside all fears for his
safety and would go about freely and confidently amongst
every type of crowd.

On the night of January 4th a plot to seize him and over
throw the Government was revealed and in consequence
several armed men were caught as they entered the palace
and put under arrest. Later three of them, a young man
named Count X ... and two others, were allowed to return
on parole to their homes in the city for the purpose of arrang
ing their affairs. In the meantime certain members of their
party had made preparations for their escape and only waited
their arrival. Two of the prisoners immediately availed them
selves of them and were soon over the frontier, but Count
X ... refused to leave and instead returned to the military

282 PILSUDSKI

authorities and surrendered to his parole. He said nothing of
the proposed escape and it was only some time later, through
the arrest of another man, that the story became known. When
it reached Pilsudski s ears he was quick to appreciate a man
who set so high a value on his word that he preferred to risk
a heavy sentence sooner than break it, even though that man
was his adversary. He used all his influence in obtaining a
pardon for the Count. It was the beginning of a long and
cordial friendship between them.

At three o clock in the afternoon of February loth, 1919,
the Diet assembled for the first time.

The whole city of Warsaw was en fete for the day. Flags
were flying, bands playing. Crowds paraded the streets, laugh
ing, singing patriotic songs, carried away on one great tide
of enthusiasm, in the realization that at last Poland s reproach
among nations had been taken away. We were once again a
free people with a parliament of our own.

The public gallery was crowded hours before the cere
mony; hundreds of people had fought for admission. Cabinet
Ministers and members filled the benches in the centre, facing
a platform draped with the national flag. Just before the hour
struck a hush fell over the whole assembly, and I remember
wondering whether the people around me were feeling even
as I was the unseen presence of all those who had lived and
fought and shed their blood to give us this victory. Surely at
this moment we must be one spirit with that long chain of
patriots stretching back through the centuries, those thou
sands, whose very names had been forgotten, who had fallen
in the Insurrections or died in the snows of Siberia because
they had so loved the dream of this freedom which for us
had become reality.

Then I heard a burst of cheering from the crowds outside
and a moment later Joseph Pilsudski took his place on the
platform to open the Diet. He wore the simple blue uniform
of the Legions and behind him were four aides-de-camp. He
had chosen them carefully, from the pick of his men, and each

THE WHITE EAGLE 283

one of them was surrounded by the glamour of some act of
special gallantry. He had always a shrewd appreciation of
the value of popular appeal, and he knew that to arouse the
pride of the Polish people in their army and in their new
State was the first step towards restoring national self-respect
which had been crushed by long slavery. For that same
reason he was insistent, in those early years of independ
ence, on the scrupulous observance of State ceremonies and
procedure, not where he was concerned he was always the
same, simple, unassuming and approachable but towards the
President, the Premier and others holding high official
rank.

His speech at the opening of that first Diet was a plea
for constructive effort and for a sane and moderate policy
at home and abroad . . .

"A century and a half of fighting has been crowned by
this day of triumph. A century and a half of dreams of
a free Poland have ended in realization. The nation is
celebrating to-day a great and happy occasion, following
on a long and bitter night of suffering." . . .

Although she was surrounded by enemies Poland would
not yield a single foot of her soil, he declared, and
added . . .

"In our foreign relations there is one ray of hope, the
tightening of the bonds of friendship which unite us with
the Entente Powers. There has long been the closest sym
pathy between Poland and the democratic peoples of Eu
rope and America, who do not seek glory in the conquest
and oppression of other nations, but base their policy on
the principles of right and justice. This sympathy has in
creased since the victorious armies of the Allied Powers
in breaking the last vestige of the power of our oppressors,
have freed Poland from her servitude. . . ."

At the end of his speech he tendered his resignation as
Temporary Chief of State.

"I confess that I was a proud man when having broken
down a thousand obstacles, I could hand my power to the

284 PILSUDSKI

first parliament of reborn Poland" ... he said later. But the
Diet would not accept it from him. He was unanimously
re-elected. The deputies of all parties cheered him with one
voice as he left the hall.

The United States had given full recognition to the in
dependent Polish State on January 3Oth, 1919. Before the
end of February the other Allied Powers followed suit.

Pilsudski could now take stock of the position.

Poland was free. Her first parliament had met and reached
unity at least over the main essentials. So much had been 1
accomplished within three months of his having . . . "Taken
the helm of the Polish ship of State" ... as he said. But so
much more remained to be done. Overwhelming difficulties
confronted him. The process of establishing a constitution
in a nation unused for centuries to self-government, and
with no legislative traditions: of reconciling the mixed popu
lations of the border districts . . . Lithuanians, White Rus
sians, Ukrainians and Jews. The labour of slowly building up
a country without an exchequer and without resources, and
at that a country ravaged by years of warfare. France and
Belgium had at least received reparations for the suffering
inflicted on them; Poland, who had been the cockpit for
three warring nations, was left to repair her own losses. Many
of her towns were half demolished, nearly two million houses
had been destroyed; 40% of her roads were ruined; 13% of
her rich, cultivated fields were laid waste. Her industries
were almost at a standstill, her populace reduced to sullen
apathy by unemployment, privation and a virulent epidemic
of typhus.

These were the obstacles which Pilsudski had to surmount.
He set to work slowly and patiently, tackling them one by
one.

He turned first to the problem of organizing the army.
With enemies attacking the newly created State on all sides
this was becoming increasingly urgent. The half-starved
Bolshevik hordes were advancing further and further into the
country. In Galicia desperate fighting was still going on be
tween Poles and Ukrainians. Lwow, which had been relieved
by the small force of Legionaries was still in the hands of

THE WHITE EAGLE 285

the defenders, but the Ukrainian troops were ravaging the
surrounding country. Poles and Germans were still opposing
one another in the Poznan district. Unless an army could
be raised without delay Poland was doomed.

To create an army at a moment s notice, without money
and without equipment, seemed on the face of things im
possible, but Joseph Pilsudski had so often been forced to
build with broken tools. He used to pace up and down his
study at night, planning and calculating. How to raise a
division in one district; how to arm one in another; how to
keep the training schools going; how to budget the officers
pay; how to make the Government give a willing sanction
to this or that expense; how to make the nation understand
that an army cannot be fed and clothed and housed on
air.

At the end of two months of worrying, and organizing and
breaking down obstacles, he had a force of more than 100,000
strong. It was composed of members of the P.O.W., the
remnants of the Legions, Polish soldiers who had been con
scripted during the war into the Russian, Austrian or German
armies and a number of volunteers. Officers were appointed
and training was begun. Gradually the road became easier.
Arms, transport wagons, field telephones and other equipment
were taken over from the German troops who were returning
to their own country. An extensive recruiting campaign had
successful results. By the spring of 1919 there were some
200,000 men at his disposal, and these were augmented later
in the year by the return of the two Polish forces which had
been serving in Russia, one which had made its way back
from Murmansk in the extreme north, and the other from the
south where it had been fighting against the Bolsheviks. These
fully trained and experienced troops were naturally a great
asset in the organization of the new army, which was further
strengthened in April by the arrival of General Haller s army,
which had at last been sent back from Paris with the bene
diction of the Entente.

To transform these diverse forces into an harmonious,
smoothly-running military machine was no small undertaking,
and it was rendered still more difficult by the lack of uni-

286 PILSUDSKI

formity in the training of the officers. The Russian military
system was entirely different from the Austrian, and conse
quently the officers who had trained in the Russian military
schools had one conception of technique and strategy and
those who had served in Galician regiments had another.
Again, the combination of German-trained officers ac
customed to the mental rigidity of Potsdam, and men pro
moted from the free and easy democracy of the P.O.W. and
the Legions was not always successful.

"My studies have shown me that the Prussian system is un-
suited to modern life" . . . Pilsudski wrote . . . "The whole
foundation of the army should be the soldier. The Prussian
system created a caste of officers separated from society by a
Chinese wall and from their soldiers by a precipice. The fate
of their army has proved that the fundamental principle of the
army is the spirit of the soldier. When this spirit is strong the
army is strong and will undergo the most severe tests; when
it is broken the loss of the army is inevitable. . . ."

Twenty years afterwards the truth of his theory was
demonstrated by the very men he had trained in it; when
the defenders of Warsaw and the garrison of Westerplatr
fought on day after day in spite of colossal odds, sustained
only by that unquenchable spirit.

While the Allied statesmen round the Conference table of
Versailles argued and debated Poland s frontiers and sought
a solution to the Danzig deadlock, Pilsudski was concentrating
on the more pressing problems of the new state. Foremost
among them was the question of blending into one country
the lands which for more than a century and a half had been
split up into German, Austrian and Russian territories. While
the people themselves had retained their national character
istics and remained fundamentally unchanged under the rule
of their respective Partitioning Powers, their constitutions had
undergone drastic alterations. The Polish provinces of Ger
many, Austria and Russia had been governed by entirely
different legislation. Now with the uniting of the severed

THE WHITE EAGLE 287

nation there arose the necessity of drawing up a uniform legal
code, a work which involved years of patient research since
every existing law in the three territories had to be carefully
adjusted in order to avoid the risk of endless litigation.

Even more complicated was the question of the different
foreign minorities of the frontier districts . . . Jews, Ukrain
ians, White Russians and Lithuanians.

Lithuania in the north had been bound by the closest ties to
Poland since the days when Jagiello, the Lithuanian Grand
Duke, had married the Polish Princess Jadwiga and founded
the dynasty which gave Poland her greatest power and her
greatest influence abroad. The Jagiellonian kings ruled all
Hungary and the land of the Czechs, and the splendour of
the Renaissance which spread throughout Europe reached its
zenith in the Polish-Lithuanian State. The history of the two
countries had bqen as one until the time of the Partitions,
and Pilsudski, who had been born in Lithuania and loved best
of all cities Wilno, where his boyhood had been spent, dreamed
of reviving that heart-to-heart collaboration of the past. Be
tween him and that dream stood the menace of Bolshevism,
the sinister shadow spreading not only over the little states
which had been created republics since the Great War . . .
Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania . . . but to Poland and be
yond to the west of Europe.

He was too true a disciple of Socialism which lies at the
root of all democracy to cherish any illusions regarding Bol
shevism. When Lenin himself had expounded his creed to him
years before he had rejected it. He stated the case against it in
an interview which he gave in 1919 ...

"Bolshevism is a disease which is peculiar to Russia. It
will never grow deep roots in any countries which are not
entirely Russian. In those countries which formed part of the
ancient Russia, but, where the social organization is not
definitely Russian, such as Poland, Estonia, the Ukraine, Bol
shevism may flourish for a while but it will never be mas
ter.

"The whole base of its teaching is class vengeance. The
ideal of Socialism is complete equality in rights and in laws,
but Bolshevism aims at something else. It aims at over-

288 PILSTJDSKI

throwing the old regime; its principal plan is the rule of the

Eroletariat, and the oppression of those under whom it has
ved hitherto, for it is born of the old Russian social regime
in which men were vilely treated by their masters. . . ."

He was convinced that the only means of averting disaster
to Europe from this new and dangerous evil of Bolshevism
was to make a united stand. He believed that if Poland and
the neighbouring small Powers formed an alliance on terms
of equality they could conquer through unity, even as their
forefathers had conquered centuries before when they had
defeated the Teutonic Knights at Griinwald. He put forward
tentative suggestions for this scheme but they met with im
mediate opposition from certain of the Allied statesmen,
notably Mr. Lloyd George.

In the meantime Lithuania was in the power of the ad
vancing Bolsheviks and Pilsudski decided to take matters
into his own hands. If the rest of Europe would do nothing
but avert their eyes in horror from the massacres going on
in Russia, and hope piously for the ultimate victory of the
White Army, he at least would. He began to plan the occupa
tion of Wilno.

On the 8th of April, 1919, he wrote to Wassilewski, his
representative on the National Committee in Paris:

"I hope that in the near future I shall be able to throw
a little light on the political situation concerning Lithuania.
You know my views in this respect. I will not be either an
Imperialist or a Federalist while I cannot speak with some
authority in other words a revolver in my pocket. Since
chatter about the brotherhood of nations, and American
doctrines seem to be winning the day, I willingly take the
Federal side/ 6/

He had been sounding Sir Esme Howard, who was repre
senting the Entente in Poland, on the subject of a Polish
effort to form an alliance with the Baltic countries. Sir Esme,
however, maintained that the chief obstacle would be the
Lithuanians. Pilsudski believed that if Latvia would exert
pressure, Lithuania would be unable to resist. ... "I sup-

THE WHITE EAGLE 289

pose" ... he wrote, "that both England and America
would guarantee such a pact, and that they would give
us Libava and Riga as an easy compensation for doubtful
Danzig."

He concluded by asking Wassilewski to talk it over with
Paderewski . . . "an ardent Federalist. . . ."

Eleven days later he led his victorious troops into Wilno.

CHAPTER XXI

IN THE Wilno campaign Pilsudski had to stand alone, as so
often in his life.

He was taking a great risk and his only hope of success lay
in telling very few people of his plans, and asking advice of
no one. Discussion would have meant indecision and delay
with the Bolsheviks drawing nearer every day. But he had to
assume a heavy responsibility. The Russians had an immense
superiority in numbers and they were elated with easy victories
over the small frontier states. His own troops had been hastily
got together; many of them had covered immense distances
to rejoin and were weary and discouraged. In spite of their
splendid fighting qualities they might well be defeated, and
defeat would mean utter disaster for Poland. The morale of
the people, weakened by years of war and foreign occupation,
was not in the condition to stand even a single serious reverse,
and the country would be delivered over to Bolshevism. He
was well aware too that he could look for no help from abroad.
The Allied statesmen would congratulate him warmly if he
could present them with a victory over the Bolsheviks as a
fait accompli, but they would be the first to blame him if he
failed. They would await events with a bouquet in one hand
and a stone in the other.

He weighed up all these considerations logically and im
personally before starting on the campaign. We discussed
them together in the salon of the little house where I lived
with Wanda and which was so much more home to the
three of us than the Belvedere. I remember him walking up
and down, smoking incessantly, and I thought that he had
grown older in the last year and stooped rather more, as
though his burden was a physical one. But he was very gay
on the morning he left because Wanda had just walked for
the first time. He laughed like a schoolboy as she staggered
round the room on her little legs, very proud of her achieve-

290

THE WHITE EAGLE

ment, and could hardly tear himself away from her although
the car was already waiting outside for him, and I had packed
his bag. Wherever he went he always carried with him the
children s photographs, a medallion of Our Lady of Ostra
Brama, and two books which were familiar friends, "Potop"
by Sienkiewicz and the Chronicles of Stryjkowski. So on that
sunny April morning he set out on a campaign which appeared
in the eyes of many sheer madness. He himself had no illusions
over it for he wrote of his misgivings:

"I was the head of the Polish Army, and I knew well
enough why I had been given the post; because no one
else would take it. They all shrank from the burden. My
army scarcely existed, my soldiers were only beggars. I re
alized that I was lacking in authority. I had only been a
brigadier and from that to being head of an army is a big
jump. Would I have enough experience and confidence to
keep my subordinates from feeling that they knew more
than I did? But I was ambitious. I welcomed this test.
I wanted to prove that I could do what appeared to be
impossible.

"I opened fire on Lida with a battery which could still
shoot, but an unwilling, bewildered battery, obliged to go
with me. For a long time I had not heard the sound of
shells whistling over my head, or the bullets pattering out
their song of death. Oh, Spirit of War, how strange you
are! My memory went back to my Legions. I thought
. . . Old friends and comrades, you who lie in your dis
tant graves, our dreams have been fulfilled. Your Com
mandant is the head of an army! Be with him now. Let
your spirits go with my soldiers. Give me Wilno this Easter.
. . . The Russian battalions came on. The battle be
gan. . . ."

His wish was granted. On Easter Monday the city was in
his hands. The campaign which had seemed to hold so little
hope was one of the most successful in his career. The plan
which he followed was the one he had worked out in his cell
at Magdeburg. Every detail had been stored away in that
retentive memory of his. The Russians went down before his

292 PILSUDSKI

small army like mown grass. His cavalry under Belina managed
to get round the Bolshevik flank to attack the main army in
the rear, and by an audacious ruse gained possession of the
city which they held, in spite of a tremendous enemy force,
until the arrival of the infantry.

The people of Wilno were overjoyed at their liberation.
Hundreds of the citizens ranged themselves with the Polish
troops and took part in the fighting in the streets; relays of
railwaymen brought up reinforcements under heavy fire from
the Russians. Pilsudski riding through the city at the head
of his force was overwhelmed with enthusiasm.

"I did not expect so warm and touching a welcome" . . .
he stated in a letter to Paderewski . . . "It surpassed any
thing one could have imagined. The people wept for joy. In
spite of the terrible state of famine in the city, they brought
out what food they had and forced it upon the soldiers. Al
ready there are the most cordial relations between them and
the army. The only exceptions have been the Jews who under
the rule of the Bolsheviks were the governing classes. I have
had the greatest difficulty in preventing a massacre provoked
by Jewish civilians shooting and throwing hand grenades from
their windows. . . ."

Two months of Communism had reduced Wilno to utter
ruin. The public services had ceased to function; the sewers
were overflowing the streets. All money found in the banks
had been confiscated. The Bolsheviks had issued over a
thousand decrees in less than a week. Commerce was at a
complete standstill; trade was carried on by barter. The
people were starving. Typhus and other epidemics were
raging.

Pilsudski s first step was to issue a proclamation. Remem
bering the time-honoured ties that had existed between Poland
and Lithuania he addressed it in the old style: "To the In
habitants of the Former Grand Duchy of Lithuania" ... In
it he declared that the long tyranny and oppression of Ger
mans, Russians and Bolsheviks in Wilno had at last ended . . .
"This Polish Army which I lead is bringing you freedom. I
want to give you the fullest possibility of solving your national
and religious problems in your own way, and although guns are

THE WHITE EAGLE 293

still thundering and blood is still flowing in parts of your land
I have no intention of establishing a military occupation. . . ."

He offered them a scheme of civil administration which
would provide for self-determination, based on universal
franchise, aid in food distribution, and in the restoration
of the country s industry, and full legal protection for all
classes.

The battle for Wilno had ended in victory in as far as the
sword was concerned, but in the diplomatic arena it was to
rage for many years.

For the last century Wilno had been debatable ground be
tween Poland and Russia. After the Partition of Poland Russia
had extended a predatory hand and drawn the ancient city
into her net, with the result that a hopeless confusion of
nationalities was created. Wilno was successively claimed as
Polish, Russian, Lithuanian and White Russian, but no definite
decision was reached, and finally the problem was added to
the long list confronting the Conference of Versailles. They
were discussing it with all due decorum and the appropriate
diplomatic procedure when Pilsudski, incapable of standing
by while the beloved city of his boyhood remained under the
heel of Bolshevism, rushed into the fray and settled matters
after his own fashion.

He was prepared for the storm of criticism which broke
out. He considered that he had ample justification for his ac
tions. The destinies of Poland and Lithuania had been linked
together for centuries, he said. Their association, founded in
1385 on mutual agreement, was the only example of such a
union in Europe, with the exception of England and Scotland.
Lithuania had shared Poland s greatness in the Jagiellonian
epoch, and shared her sufferings and her bitter unavailing fight
in the Insurrections of 1831 and 1863. The boundaries of a
country were situated where the culture and education of an
other country began, and Polish influence and culture had
always extended over Lithuania. Her educated classes spoke
only Polish and lived according to Polish custom. The citizens
of Wilno had considered themselves to be Poles for centuries.
His strongest argument was that of the inhabitants of the city
less than one per cent were Lithuanians.

294 PILSUDSKI

Because of the entire friendliness of the population he was
firmly resolved to abstain from anything in the nature of a
military occupation, or from any suggestion of an annexation.
It was unthinkable to him to use threats or force to the citizens
of Wilno, his own people. He wished to invite the opinion
of the entire population of the territories affected.

The inhabitants of Wilno supported him with one voice
and showed their loyalty in the warmth of their welcome to
his army. But the Lithuanians protested to Versailles. Their
clamours put the Allied statesmen in a dilemma. Clemenceau,
to whose policy a strong Poland was a necessity, sided with
Pilsudski, Lloyd George opposed him. The question of Po
land s boundaries, more particularly where Lithuania was con
cerned, was brought up repeatedly, and as repeatedly shelved.

In the meantime the Polish Army was following up the vic
tory of Wilno. The Ukrainians were defeated and driven out
of Galicia. Minsk was taken in August, Suvalki in the early
autumn. The army in the north under Rydz-Smigly was fight
ing in conjunction with the Latvians, in a series of successful
counter-attacks against the Bolsheviks. In the January of 1920
Pilsudski attended a dinner given in his honour at Dyneburg,
and received the thanks of General Ballod, Commander-in-
Chief of the Latvian Army, for the help which the Poles had
given.

It was a year of triumph and fulfilment for him. In the
month of August he realized one of his dearest wishes, the
restoration of the old University of Wilno, which had been
abolished by the Russians after the Insurrection and replaced
by the Gymnase he had attended in his boyhood. I shall
always remember his happiness because the dream of an un
known little Polish boy, smarting under the bitterness and
injustice of oppression, had come to pass after more than forty
years.

He faced the winter confidently, although the Russians
were gathering their forces for a new attack and the Ukrainians
were again massing on the frontier. . . . " We are a little army
fighting on three fronts" ... he said in an interview he gave
in November . . . "And if we were to say to ourselves . . .
Poland is only a dream: the Vistula will never wholly belong

THE WHITE EAGLE 295

to us: we shall always be harassed and surrounded by our
enemies . . . our men, who are facing death with such cour
age would not have the strength to go on resisting. Our great
est strength is our faith. . . ."

The beginning of 1920 saw improvements in some aspects
of the national situation and increased difficulties in others.
The army had gained in strength and experience. A uniform
system of training had been established; urgently needed
arms had been brought from France. But the winter had
been hard, unemployment had risen, and even Paderewski s
liberality of ideas had not prevented friction in the Govern
ment. The dispute with the Czechs was still at a deadlock;
Germany, consumed with bitterness over the Treaty of
Versailles and the disposal of Danzig and the Corridor, but
unable to strike back at the Allies, was concentrating all her
venom against Poland. The Bolsheviks were winning the
battle in diplomacy. An extensive and efficient propaganda
campaign which they had launched against Poland was already
having disastrous effects among Allied statesmen. The Socialist
Press in England was attacking Pilsudski and clamouring for
support for the Russian workers; the phrase "Polish imperi
alism" had been coined, and even the most moderately inclined
politicians were beginning to hint that the Poles were being
unreasonable.

The Russians, following up their diplomatic success, decided
to put themselves in a still more favourable light with the
Allies and made Poland a peace offer, although they were
concentrating a large force at the Polish frontier. It was re
jected, and for that rejection Poland has been severely criti
cized. The Allied Supreme Council adopted an admonitory
tone, which they no doubt felt to be justified. Europe was
sick of the very name of war. The other nations had ceased
to fight, why could not Poland lay down her arms? Various
motives were attributed to Pilsudski, principally that of pride,
which was absurd. Unlike Hitler and Mussolini, he was utterly
devoid of personal ambition, had no wish to see himself in the
role of a world conqueror, and no thought of extravagant
territorial claims. All he wanted was to win back for Poland
that which had been taken- from her. But he had another

296 PILSUDSKI

deeper reason. His fear and distrust of Bolshevism, which he
believed would destroy any state in which it took root. He
emphasized his convictions in an interview which he gave to
the correspondent of an English newspaper in the hope that
it might promote a better understanding of Poland. . . .

"I think that the methods which have made Russian So
cialism a policy of terrorism and the total destruction of so
cial life would be unthinkable in civilized countries" ... he
said . . . "Ask the Socialists of Great Britain whether they
would like to have Lenin and Zinoviev reorganize their Gov
ernment for them on the lines of Bolshevism. I think they
would say No. Do you wonder that I am afraid of the Bolshe
viks coming here uninvited to reorganize the Polish Govern
ment?"

In April he signed an agreement with the Ukrainian leader
Petlura in which the Ukrainians undertook to cede to Poland
Lwow and Volyn in return for the aid of the Polish Army in
freeing the remainder of their country from the Bolsheviks.
The announcement of the pact was received with the greatest
enthusiasm by the Ukrainians, and the Poles pledged them
selves to evacuate the New Ukraine at the end of the war.
The two armies then made preparations for a joint attack.

For the first time Pilsudski was to lead his army under the
title which had been bestowed on him of "Marshal of Poland."
No prouder name existed in his eyes. The silver baton which
was presented to him by the nation was his most valued pos
session. . . .

On April 25th he launched his new offensive against the
Russians, reached the Dnieper in less than a fortnight and on
May 8th occupied Kiev. Everywhere the enemy fell back be
fore him, and he was often amazed at the small resistance his
troops encountered. From Rownc he wrote to me on May ist:

"My dearest Ola,

"I am writing on this Field Card, not out of duty, but
to emphasize my dependence on you, my dear ones, who
are so far away from me. And although God knows I am
busy enough, and I have standing beside my bed the
photograph of my daughter-and-heir, I am longing for you.

THE WHITE EAGLE 297

Well, I have taken the first plunge, (You must be surprised
and perhaps a little afraid of these big plunges of mine.)
I am preparing the second, and bringing up troops and
material for it. If it proves as effective as the first the
whole Bolshevik Army will be crushed. I have made prison
ers of nearly half their force, and taken a quantity of ma
terial at the base. The remainder of their army are for the
most part demoralized and dispersed. My own loss has
been extraordinarily small. On the whole front it amounts
to only 150 killed and 300 wounded. But I have had a very
sad personal loss. One of my aides-de-camp, Count Radzi-
will, has been killed. You know how much I liked him
personally, and I valued him too as a good officer, on
whom I could always rely. He was killed at Malin, that
one place where we were unsuccessful. He fell badly
wounded and when our squadrons drew back the Bolshe
viks dispatched all the wounded without mercy. We found
him after we had counter-attacked pierced all over with
bayonet wounds." . . .

In June the tide turned against him. Budienny, the Russian
general, brought up large forces of Cossack cavalry, and
Rydz-Smigly and his men, who were holding Kiev, were
forced to evacuate the city. It was the prelude to a retreat
along the entire front. The Polish Army, which was now heav
ily outnumbered, was disastrously handicapped by shortage
of arms and equipment, while the Bolsheviks were in posses
sion of the latest big guns and munitions which the Allies had
sent out to Russia for the purpose of aiding the "Whites." On
August ist the Russians captured Brest-Litovsk and marched
on Warsaw.

At this blackest of hours Pilsudski appealed to the Polish
people, and they did not fail him. The Government, which
had been so often rent with party strife, achieved a measure
of unity which was echoed by the nation. Volunteers enrolled
in tens of thousands, new battalions were hastily organized.
But help was also needed from outside the country, and at that
juncture of her history Poland stood practically alone. The
Allies were willing to supply war material, but its transport

298 PILSUDSKI

was blocked by German neutrality, and the Danzig dockers
would not unload ships carrying consignments for Poland.
The Hungarians sent through munitions, but most of these
were seized by the hostile Czechs. Lenin s agents in every
country in Europe launched a violent anti-Polish campaign
which gained ground among the working-classes who were
already sympathetically inclined towards the Bolsheviks.

The Supreme Council of the Allies in Paris, realizing at
length the gravity of Poland s position, sent out a special Mili
tary Mission composed of General Weygand, the English Gen
eral Ratcliffe, Lord D Abernon and M. Jusserand, who arrived
in Warsaw at the end of July. Pilsudski immediately offered
to share the Chief Command with Weygand, who declined,
saying that since he did not know the Polish troops and their
commanders he preferred to act only in the capacity of adviser.

The state of affairs which developed during the next week
would have been sheer comedy if it had not been so desperately
serious. Each of the military experts had a different plan from
which they would not deviate an inch. With the Bolsheviks
advancing nearer and nearer to the city they argued and ex
pounded their theories and finally came to a complete deadlock
before any decision had been reached. My husband in describ
ing later the events of that fateful week wrote . . .

"I had by me, ex-officio, at this period three important
officials, namely, General Raswadowski, my Chief of Staff,
General Sosnkowski, Minister of War, and General Wey
gand, who was newly arrived from France as Technical
Advisor of the Franco-British Mission, which had been sent
to Poland at this critical period. Their views on the situa
tion were, as might have been expected, completely diver
gent and as the situation was peculiarly critical it appears
that in my absence the discussions were not altogether
amiable. Eventually they were communicating with one
another only by means of diplomatic notes which they sent
from room to room. In the same office on the Place Saski
in Warsaw General Sosnkowski, Minister of War, endeav
oured like a kindly guardian angel to reconcile their points
of view which were diametrically opposed. The Marne was

THE WHITE EAGLE 299

very frequently mentioned in all these discussions, for in
them General Weygand and Sosnkowski showed an especial
predilection for the Marne. Because Marechal Joifre had
endeavoured to interpose a river and a stream (the Seine
and the Marne) between himself and the enemy in order
to carry out the regrouping of his forces in retreat towards
his left wing (i.e., towards Paris), so in our case Weygand
and Sosnkowski advocated taking cover behind a stream
and a river in order to cover a powerful manoeuvre by the
left wing in the Modlin- Warsaw area. General Raswadowski
objected to this repetition of the Marne, for he was opposed
on principle to anything that was said in the other room
of the office on the Place Saski, and brought forward en
tirely different plans of lavish ideas, but he never stuck
to any of them and changed them almost hour by hour.
It was scarcely to be wondered at then that General Wey
gand, accustomed to the methodical work of the Allied
general staffs, should have had to resort to diplomatic
methods of communication in his relations with General
Raswadowski."

The situation grew worse every day. The unity which had
bound the whole nation together in the first week of prepara
tions was shaken by indecision. A large section both of the
Government and the populace began to clamour for peace,
and certain of the foreign diplomatists strongly advised coming
to terms with Russia. . . . "At that most critical hour there
was no thought of anything but self-abasement" . . . wrote
Pilsudski , . . "foreign counsels were being so far followed
that a peace delegation was on the point of being sent to the
headquarters of Tukachevski, Commandant of the Russian
forces at Minsk. Very few believed in the possibility of our
victory, the majority carried on their duties, when they did
carry them on, in an atmosphere of despair." . . .

The five Russian armies swept relentlessly on, and still the
military experts debated as to what line was to be adopted.
. . . "While they are looking at maps and writing notes to
one another the Bolsheviks will be marching into Warsaw!"
. . . said Pilsudski with an exasperation that was perhaps

jOO PILSUDSKI

justifiable, and decided to act on his own initiative. On the
night of August 6th, the anniversary of that day six years
before when he had led his Riflemen over the Russian frontier,
he shut himself up in his study at the Belvedere Palace and
gave orders that he was not to be interrupted. There all
through the long hours until dawn he laboured over the plan
which has been called a brilliant feat of strategy. In describing
that night he used to say how often he had been reminded of
Napoleon s confession that when he had to make an important
decision in war he was like a woman giving birth to a child,
weak and timorous . . . "I, too, knew what that weakness
was. I was a prey to it myself."

In the morning he had his plan and refused to change it even
after the various experts had pointed out what they considered
errors. He realized that vacillation would be fatal. Faulty or
not he would stick to it. The decision was the hardest he ever
made, but he was calm and resolute.

His plan involved a considerable element of risk, for it
depended on letting the enemy concentrate his full strength
against the defences of Warsaw while Pilsudski and his army
waited for the critical moment to launch an attack on the
Russian flank from Pulawy. Correct timing was of vital im
portance and therefore he insisted on waiting though tele
grams from Warsaw repeatedly urged him to attack.

Those days of waiting were some of the darkest in his life.
The majority of the members of the Government were openly
blaming him for the war. The Allied diplomatists alternately
lectured and criticized. He knew that many of his officers, in
spite of their unwavering loyalty to him, felt in their hearts
that he was leading them on a mad campaign and that Warsaw
was doomed. He believed in the plan of campaign which he
had formed, but there was the possibility of it failing through
insufficiency in numbers. To keep up the morale of his troops,
and also of the city, he was obliged to leave the bulk of his
army in front of Warsaw and use only a small force for his
own counter-attack. When he left to take up his position at
Pulawy he was tired and depressed. For the first time before
a battle the dread of failure weighed on him because so much
was at stake.

THE WHITE EAGLE 301

I had been evacuated to the neighbourhood of Cracow with
Wanda and our second daughter Jagode, who was only a few
months old, and he came to see us there before leaving for the
front. He bade good-bye to his children as though he was go
ing to his death and was impatient with me because I would
not admit that this offensive might end in disaster for Poland.
I could comfort him because I had complete faith that our
army would be victorious, just as I knew that he would not
be killed. Some instinct always told me what was in store
for him. In the days when he was commanding his Legions I
bade good-bye to him before he left for Laski, and I felt then
that he would be wounded in the headhe was though, for
tunately, not seriously. And now before this battle the same
instinct told me that all would be well.

"The issue of every war is uncertain until it has actually
been fought" ... he said as he left me ... "But I believe
that it is in the hands of God. . . ."

The Battle of the Vistula which began on August i6th, 1920,
has passed into history. The Russians, despite their immense
superiority in numbers, were routed. Two-fifths of their armies
were lost; the rest fled in disorder, leaving behind them enor
mous quantities of war material. But the battle which was
fought on the plains of the Vistula was not the battle for War
saw alone, or even for Poland. It had a far wider significance,
for it stopped the triumphant march of Bolshevism. It was the
battle for civilization, for liberty and justice, and for every
principle for which democracy stands. Centuries before Poland
had influenced the destiny of Europe when John Sobieski s
army drove the Turks from the plains of Vienna and gained
the victory of the Cross over the Crescent. In 1920 she in
fluenced it again when she made her stand against the forces
of Bolshevism.

The rout of the Russians, begun at the Battle of the Vistula,
was followed up by further Polish victories on the Niemen and
the Szczara. The Bolshevist vision of marching to world-wide
revolution over the corpse of Poland receded. On October
1 8th an armistice was declared. A month later a peace

302 PILSUDSKI

conference opened at Riga, and on March i8th, 192 1, a treaty
was signed which secured Poland s Eastern Frontier.

Poland was rid of the menace of Russia for the time being
at least, but she had other problems to cope with. Her bound
aries, in spite of all the admonitions and well-intentioned ad
vice of the Allies, were still undecided.

The Russians on their march to Warsaw had taken Wilno
once more and given a new and complicated twist to the sit
uation by bestowing it on the Lithuanians, without consulting
the wishes of the citizens. The Lithuanians immediately set
up their capital there and started to oppress its Polish in
habitants who sent a desperate appeal to Pilsudski. The Polish
General Zeligowski was dispatched to the rescue with his di
vision, drove out the Lithuanians in their turn, and was given
a tremendous welcome by the people. This meant, of course,
that wails arose to the Allies, this time from the Lithuanians,
and Pilsudski was hauled over the coals again. An official in
quiry was addressed to him by the French and British repre
sentatives at Warsaw. His reply was that every community
had the right to self-determination and that if a plebiscite were
held the citizens of Wilno would declare themselves with one
voice Poles. In the meantime General Zeligowski formed in
Wilno the "Central Lithuanian Government" composed of
the inhabitants, and despite the frowns of the Allies a new
frontier was set up. The tumult died down: no blood was spilt,
only a great deal of diplomatists ink, and Pilsudski received
still another lecture. It did not trouble him. He had accom
plished what he had set out to do. Wilno was still Polish. He had
kept his word to his beloved city.

The question was finally decided in January 1922, when
a free and democratic vote was held in Wilno which resulted
in a majority of 100 to i in favour of unconditional reunion
with Poland. In March the district was incorporated in Polish
territory, with full international recognition, and Wilno rep
resentatives were admitted to the Parliament in Warsaw.
Pilsudski visited the city that had been so hardly recovered.
It had suffered bloodshed and famine; the Bolsheviks had
despoiled it of all its treasures of art, of everything of value,
even of common necessities. But it was still the ancient city

THE WHITE EAGLE 303

of the poets and philosophers whose lamp had lighted the road
through the dark days of Poland s servitude. The city of
Slowacki and Mickiewicz. He could say in his address to the
citizens . . .

"I am now at that age when I can look calmly into that
void from which no one returns. I know that after the many
emotions which I have experienced in my stormy life Fate
cannot hold many more, as great and powerful, in store for
me. But there are other emotions as pure and simple as those
of a child which will still fall to my share.

"To-day I am like a child on the birthday of his beloved
mother. The trusting eye of a child, delighted with his
mother, does not look and does not ask what gown she
wears. Whether she is pretty or ugly in the eyes of others;
to the child she is and remains some one wonderful and beau
tiful and on the day of her anniversary its heart is filled with
happiness. And so like that child, profoundly moved, I cry
Long Live Wilno. "

The situation regarding the frontiers remained unsatisfac
tory. German propaganda had caused the plebiscites in East
Prussia to go against Poland. There was intense bitterness
between the Polish and German populations in the region of
the Corridor, which was all too obviously going to remain a
festering wound, doomed to break out one day. Germans and
Poles were almost coming to blows in Danzig, which was our
only outlet to the sea. The Allies had decided to give Cieszyn
to Czechoslovakia, which Poland felt to be a deep injustice,
since the majority of the inhabitants of the province were
Polish. Dispute raged over Upper Silesia with its rich coal
mines, and its teeming population. There too the Peace Con
ference decided on a plebiscite, which was held in March 192 1,
but in the meantime there were risings of Polish workmen
which the German troops could not quell. It was only after the
third rising in October 1921 that the territory was restored
to Poland.

In spite of many setbacks and disappointments the year
1921 was not without its triumphs. The alliance with France

304 PILSUDSKI

in February, following Pilsudski s official visit to Paris, was a
diplomatic gain of the first value. I can remember how over
joyed my husband was that Poland, who only a few years
before had not even existed in the world of diplomacy, should
have been sought after in friendship by one of the great Powers.
During the next month our position in Europe was still further
strengthened by a pact with Rumania.

CHAPTER XXII

POLAND HAD peace at last and could give herself to the work
of reconstruction. In the spring of 1921 parliament passed the
new constitution, which was drawn up on a democratic base.
The State was to be governed by a President, a Cabinet of
Ministers, a Senate whose power would be limited and a Seym,
or Lower House which would include representatives of all
classes and minorities.

The country was recovering from the aftermath of war.
Lands which had been laid waste were ploughed and sown once
more, rebuilding of the ruined towns and villages was begun,
industries which had been paralysed for years were gradually
reorganized.

Pilsudski dared now to look ahead into the future. So many
of the giants which had threatened to crush the life out of
the infant State had been slain. Bolshevism had been defeated.
The quarrel with the Czechs had been settled, not perhaps
very satisfactorily for Poland but at least peaceably. The
mixed populations of the new frontier districts were being
slowly absorbed and welded into one nation again. The bar
riers that had so long separated the Polish people had been
broken down.

In June 1921, Pilsudski visiting the town of Torun in
Pomerania for the first time since its recovery from Germany
spoke of the nation no longer sundered. . . .

"Every nation has its monuments, representing the joys
and sorrows of many generations: its ruins, fields of battle,
towns and streets, in sight of which hearts are quickened.
Poland has many of these temples of history, but to me there
is no grander temple than the boundaries which once severed
our country. There was a time when the Polish people
throughout the whole length and breadth of the land led

305

306 PILSUDSKI

the same life. History grooved the soul of the nation in the
same pattern. But there came a day when frontier posts
were set up, posts which said Forget, forget! Forget your
own people and the laughter and the tears you have shared.
Forget even your language/ By means of this line, which
seemed of so little importance since the smallest animal could
run across it, we were to be made different physically and
morally, different in mentality and in our character, so that
if need be we could fight one against the other. Three great
powers expended time and energy to make these frontiers
strong, and the efforts of many generations of Poles were
needed to destroy their work. There is no greater historical
temple to rne than these frontiers by which we are no longer
divided.

"The message which came to us from these frontier posts
not so long ago was Forget. To-day the message is Remem
ber. And that Remember is not an empty word. It means
work, and still more work until this ditch of which the
enemy wanted to make a precipice is filled." . . .

The ditch had been dug deep and years of slow and patient
toil went to the filling of it. In looking back on that process
of rebuilding Poland I can only think of the comparison of
some one who has been paralysed for a long time learning to
walk again. We would go forward a few steps and then stand
still, tired and discouraged at realizing the distance we had
still to cover. Or we would collide with some obstacle we had
not even seen because we had been too ambitious. We walked
haltingly because movement depends on co-ordination and it
takes time and long practice to acquire co-ordination. Con
stitutions are based on tradition, and we had had no tradi
tion as a self-governing people for a century and a half. We
were without experience in economics, constitutional laws or
finance, and so inevitably we made mistakes, and we had no
smoothly-running state machinery to stand the strain of them;
only an empty exchequer and a non-existent credit.

Our worst handicap was our lack of revenue. In those
first post-war years when international finance fluctuated
wildly and the currency of nearly every nation in Europe

THE WHITE EAGLE 307

depreciated Poland s position was almost desperate. The
German mark, the Austrian crown and the Russian rouble fell
to a fraction of their former value. Poland with her frail
economic structure and with no powerful foreign interests to
support her could not hope to hold up the zloty. It sustained
a serious drop in 1920 and in consequence prices rose and
unemployment increased. It was almost impossible to budget
successfully. National expenditure was high in a country
which had nothing to start with, no social services, not even
a police force. Hospitals and schools had to be instituted,
pensions paid to soldiers dependents and to disabled men, and
the necessary funds could only be raised from a people which
was almost bankrupt. The question of capital was an ever-
present skeleton, and one which was particularly ill-adapted
to the Polish temperament, which is lavish to a fault. In the
first flush of enthusiasm and pride in our newly-created State
there were some disastrous experiments. Every government
department was infected with our national characteristic of
lofty aspirations, and gave rein to them. Ambitious schemes
were begun and had to be abandoned half-way through be
cause there was no money to complete them. We wanted to
beautify our cities and so we put up magnificent buildings and
then when the last available zloty had been spent on their
adornment there would be nothing left to make roads leading
to them. The unfinished canal outside Warsaw is still witness to
our inability to reconcile our ambitions with our limitations in
those early days. Originally intended as a grandiose scheme for
a great waterway, which would revive the mediaeval trading
glories of the Vistula and bring the ships of all nations to our
capital, it was left not even half constructed after the painful
discovery that it would cost more than the entire year s rev
enue. Since then it has remained a desolate waste, given over
to weeds and stray cats. My husband used to say that the sight
of this national monument so depressed him that he always
turned his head away when he passed it in the car. It reminded
him of his father s passion for building and its disastrous effect
on the family exchequer.

The war having ended the opinion both of the Government
and the nation trended towards drastic economy in the army,

308 PILStTDSKI

to the alarm of Pilsudski, who realized the folly and the danger
of such policy. No one, he said, could be guileless enough to
suppose that Poland would remain on good terms with either
Germany or Russia unless she was strong enough to defend
herself against them both. Germany made no secret of her
resentment over the Corridor. The Treaty with the Bolsheviks
would hold good just as long as Russia was unsure of herself.
. . . "When she is weak she is ready to promise anything,"
he said. "But she is equally ready to break those promises the
moment that she feels herself strong enough to do so." Despite
Lenin s protestations of universal brotherhood and widespread
propaganda to the workers of Poland her mentality had under
gone little change since the days of Ivan the Terrible. He
quoted his own maxim. . . .

"Whatever government Russia has becomes an imperialist
government, because she herself is essentially imperialistic.
She has only exchanged the imperialism of the Czars for the
Red imperialism of the Soviets." As far as Poland was con
cerned her only hope was to make herself strong in arms.

He succeeded in convincing the Seym and managed to avert
an actual reduction of the army, but he had to wage one long
and persistent struggle to obtain the necessary grants for it.
All expenditure, even on such obvious necessities as boots and
clothing for the troops, assumed mammoth proportions in the
eyes of the Government, so that he had to beg and plead, and
keep up a continual propaganda for the army, always present
ing it to the people as a part of the national life. There were
times when he despaired of making a nation which had had no
army for more than a century and a half military-minded. It
was a thankless task, and one which caused him to be often
misunderstood, for his enemies constantly brought the charge
of war-mongering against him.

His duties as Chief of State covered a wide field, wider in
deed than he wished. He had no liking for many aspects of
political life, and was impatient of the petty details attendant
upon his position. He fulfilled them because some one must
hold the State together and he knew, quite dispassionately and
without vanity, that at that critical stage he was the one man
who could do it. When I log!? back on those days I think of

THE WHITE EAGLE 309

him always as teaching the country self-government. Slowly
and with endless patience he revived the constitutional life
which had lain dormant for so long, built up the relationship of
mutual responsibility between the people and the Government.

He worked tirelessly and unendingly, very often eighteen
hours out of the twenty-four. The short vacations which he
used to take for Christmas or Easter when we went to Spala
were his only opportunities for relaxation, and even there we
had always visitors, members of the Government, or foreign
diplomatists with whom he wanted to discuss affairs of State.
But he was happy there in the snow-clad forests which he
loved.

The close of the year 1922 marked a crisis in his life. It
had been universally expected that when the election for the
Presidency was held on December pth, he would be chosen.
There was consternation then when at the meeting of the Seym
on the fourth he announced his decision not to stand.

For some considerable time there had been constant grounds
for complaint between him and the Seym, but he had either
ignored them altogether or glided lightly over them, for he
was easy-going where trivial matters were concerned and his
keen sense of humour carried him through the quarrels and
recriminations which seemed incidental to Polish politics at
that juncture. But now a more important issue was at stake.

During his four years as Chief of State he had successfully
carried out the duties of a President, but since March of the
previous year when a new Constitution had been established,
he had found his task increasingly difficult, for he had been
hampered by a hundred and one petty regulations. He could
not even give an order unless it had been countersigned by one
of the Ministers; every speech he delivered had to be written
out beforehand and submitted for approval; he was expected
to represent the Polish Republic on all occasions, yet he could
not express his own opinions or work for the State according
to his own ideas. He was sick of the incessant arguments over
trifles and delays over important matters. He felt like a child,
alternately petted and criticized. So he told the Parliament
to elect another President. . . . "Choose a man with a heavy
step and a light hand" ... he advised them. . . . "There

310 PILSUDSKI

will be mires and swamps to cross, and a man with a light step
will cross them too quickly, and therefore he will be no help
to others. For the rest: a light hand is needed in order to com
promise. Compromise is perhaps an unfortunate word, for to
many it is synonymous with treachery. But nevertheless it is
allied to the very essence of democracy. It consists of ad
mitting that if my will and my preferences can manifest them
selves in the State others also have the same rights. . . . Only
a light hand can carry out successfully a compromise of this
sort. A heavy one will be useless for it will be too ready to
resort to compulsion."

Gabriel Narutowicz, the President who was elected by the
National Assembly of the Seym and Senate on December pth,
had indeed the qualification of a light hand, for he was a gifted
diplomatist and a man of wide culture. Descended from an
old Polish family with estates in Lithuania he had studied ex
tensively in his youth, principally in Switzerland, specialized
in science and engineering and finally turned his energies to
politics. Between him and my husband there existed a warm
affection, for although they were totally unlike in temperament
each could appreciate the other. Narutowicz, who was a gentle
scholar, unassuming as a child, shrank from the responsibility
of the Presidency and would have refused it but for his stern
sense of duty. He had already proved an able Minister of
Foreign Affairs, and although, as a staunch supporter of
Pilsudski s policy, he would meet with opposition from the
extreme Right, it seemed probable that his appointment would
be approved by the nation and that the choice would be a
happy one.

He was so distressed before the election that my husband
asked me to visit him that evening as he was too busy to do
so himself. On arriving at the simple little house where he
lived with his nieces I found him in poor health and suffering
from a deep depression which he tried in vain to shake off. He
confided to me that he had a strange premonition which
warned him not to accept the Presidency. He was convinced
that trouble would come of his appointment, and apart from
that, he did not feel strong enough to undertake so great a
responsibility.

THE WHITE EAGLE 3!!

I told him that my husband had the greatest confidence
in his tact and judgment and that he believed he was the right
man to guide the nation through a difficult time. After we
had talked a little while he grew more cheerful and even spoke
of the arrangements he would make at the Belvedere where
he would have his office ... "I shall not take over the Mar
shal s study," ... he said with a smile ... "I shall keep
that exactly as he leaves it so that I can be constantly reminded
of his example."

I left this loyal friend and kindliest and most gracious of
men with the promise that I would visit him next week. To
my sorrow I was never to fulfil it for a few days later he was
assassinated.

The news of his appointment was followed by a violent
outburst of hostility from the National Democrats. Popular
feeling was inflamed against him by reports that he was a Jew.
There was not the slightest foundation for them, but none the
less they gained currency. A twelve-hour strike was organized
in Warsaw as a protest, and when the new President drove
through the city to take the oath crowds blocked the streets
yelling and booing. Even boys of fourteen pelted his carriage
with mud.

By accident I was caught in one of these crowds, wedged
tightly between an old peasant who was deaf and kept asking
me plaintively what all the fuss was about, and a fat woman
of the servant class. She was scarlet in the face, jumping up
and down and waving her arms as she shrieked abuse of "the
dirty Jew Narutowicz." I told her that I knew the family of
the new President and that he had not a drop of Jewish blood,
but I only wasted my breath for she continued to shout "We
will not be governed by the dirty Israelites," until those around
took up the cry and howled threats and curses as loudly as
she. The crowd was in an ugly temper, obviously worked upon
by agitators. The atmosphere was heavy with the approach
ing storm.

Two days later, on the morning of December i6th, my hus
band left our house in the Ulice Koszykowa (he had already
handed over his official residence at the Belvedere to Gabriel
Narutowicz) to go to the office of the General Staff. I remem-

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314 PILSUDSKI

ber that he was in good spirits, laughing with the children, be
cause he had laid down so many of his worries. He had been
gone only a few minutes when the back door bell rang. Some
instinct made me warn the maid that she was not to admit
any stranger. Presently she came back to report that the
visitors had been three young men who had asked to see the
Marshal. She had replied from behind the door that he had
already left the house and would not be home for some hours.
Before they could reply she had shut the door in their
faces.

She had scarcely finished speaking when there was a ring
at the front door. I told her that I would answer it. There
was a chain on the bolt and I slipped it firmly into place so
that the door opened only a few inches. Through the aperture
I saw a young man and two others behind him. All three had
their right hands in their coat pockets. They told me that
they had called to see the Marshal and I answered, as the
maid had already done, that he was not at home. After lin
gering for some time outside the house they disappeared,
but the incident had left me with a vague feeling of uneasi
ness.

An hour or so later one of our friends came to the house in
great agitation to ask where he could get in touch with the
Marshal. President Narutowicz had been shot dead in the
street.

This cold-blooded assassination was a source of lasting
grief to my husband. It seemed to him a cruel irony of fate
that a man who had loved Poland so passionately, and done so
much during his term at the Foreign Office to increase Polish
prestige among other nations, should have died by the hand of
one of his own countrymen. His personal sorrow was doubled
by the murderer s admission that his bullet had been intended
for Pilsudslti, but that failing to find him that day he had
shot the President. He could not reconcile himself to the
thought that his friend had died in his stead. "If only the
shot had been fired at me" ... he said repeatedly. . . .
"My luck would have saved me, as it has so often done be
fore."

His grief found expression in the brochure "Memories of

THE WHITE EAGLE 315

Gabriel Narutowicz" which he wrote in the following year.
Was there a touch of envy in its concluding words?

"You did not fight with us. You did not know the
misery of servitude. The struggle did not rob you of the
sentimentality of your youth; your spirit was not sullied
by the mire of slavery. You kept among your Swiss
mountains the dreams of your childhood and your
youth; your childish faith in humanity, and in its good
will." ...

A few days after the assassination of Narutowicz the Na
tional Assembly elected another President, Stanislas Wojcie-
chowski, who had collaborated with Pilsudski in the publi
cation of the Robotnik in the old days of the P.P.S. Sikorski
became Premier and my husband took over the office of Chief
of the General Staff. He was free now to devote himself to
the work he loved. The army was his creation, and whatever
disadvantages might be attached to it, his heart was always
with it. He watched over it like a proud father, fought its
battles fiercely in the parliamentary arena, where it could not
fight for itself, and was never happier than when he was think
ing out schemes for increasing its efficiency or contributing
to its welfare. It was therefore with much misgiving that he
saw it being dragged increasingly within the sphere of party
politics. The trenches had seemed preferable a thousand times
to the constitutional battlefield in which he now found himself;
the political intrigue with which he was surrounded disgusted
him, As the years of peace lengthened and the terrors of war
receded into the background the Government showed less and
less inclination to make his task easier.

A crisis was reached in May 1923, when the Witos Govern
ment, which was closely allied with the National Democrats,
came into power. With the murder of Narutowicz still fester
ing in his mind he refused flatly to defend such a government
and gave in his resignation. At the same time he published
several newspaper articles openly attacking the evils which
were cropping up like weeds on the soil of Poland. The nation
was being nourished on deceit and hypocrisy, he wrote, therein
lay its weakness. . . .

PILSUDSKI

"A nation whose life is built on lies will always be weaker
than one whose life is built on truth. Truth is the strength
and the power of the spirit . . ."

In response his enemies launched a violent attack on him.
Accusations without a vestige of foundation were whispered
against him. He was even stated to have been in the pay of
both Germany and Russia . . , he, whose every breath, whose
every thought was for Poland and for Poland alone. But as
some attacked him others defended him with equal vehemence,
and so fierce controversy raged, both in the army and outside
it. On July 3rd a banquet was given in his honour by over
two hundred of his political friends. The speech he made that
night has been called the most memorable in his career. It
must certainly, I think, have been one of the frankest ever
made by a statesman. . . .

He began by painting one of his vivid word pictures of his
sudden rise to power. A man named Joseph Pilsudski had
walked out of the railway station one day in November 1918,
wearing the uniform of the Polish Legions, a man who was on
his way back from a German prison, as were many other men
at that time. But this man, because he was Commandant of the
First Brigade became in a few days Dictator of Poland. . . .
"The new Poland as its first symbol chose, rightly or wrongly,
a man dressed in a grey uniform, worn and stained in the prison
of Magdeburg."

After a few months as Dictator, he continued, he had opened
the first parliament and handed over his power to it, He stood
before it in the same uniform, wearing the sword which his
officers of the First Brigade had given him. And the parlia
ment had made him Chief of the Polish State and Commander-
jn-Chief of the Polish Army. Everything was in his hands. . . .
"Yet there was a shadow which encircled me, which went
before me, which remained behind me. On the battlefield,
at work in the Belvedere or caressing my child this shadow
pursued me always. The shadow of a monstrous dwarf on
crooked legs, spitting out his filthy soul, spitting at me from
every side, sparing nothing sacred, neither my family life nor
my friends, following my steps, distorting every thought." . . .
This dwarf was not a mere metaphor. He who represented

THE WHITE EAGLE 317

the nation had been called a thief, a traitor who had sold his
country to the enemy. That was the hateful soul of the monster
that had pursued him.

He went on to give the reasons which had caused him to
resign. He had left the army because as a soldier he would
not draw the sword in the defence of those men whose agents
had first thrown missiles at the newly elected President in the
streets and then completed their crime. He ended ... "I am
not a public prosecutor. I only look for the truth. As for my
self, I ask you to remember me, and at the same time I ask for
a long, long rest, so that I may breathe the air, so that I may
be as free as you, and as gay as were my comrades of the First
Brigade." . . .

He did indeed need a rest. He was fifty-six, and the strain
of the last few years had taken toll of even so boundless a
vitality as his. He only wanted to retire quietly with me and
the children to Sulejowek, the pleasant little villa some fifteen
miles from Warsaw which had been presented to him by the
army. The Seym voted him a pension of the equivalent of
,600 a year, but he refused to take it and gave it over to the
endowment of Wilno University. He had never cared for
money. His tastes were simple, and if he took up his writing
again he could earn enough to enable us to live quite com
fortably, though perhaps not luxuriously.

We remained at Sulejowek from July 1923 until May 1926,
and because they were some of the happiest years we ever
spent together I must try to draw the picture of a house in the
heart of a pine forest, a neat little white house with a red roof >
set back in a garden that was full of flowers nearly all the year
round. On either side of the porch were tablets bearing the
inscriptions . . .

"The Soldier of the Reborn Poland Offers This House to
His Commandant ... and "May the sun of this restored
country shine upon the walls of this house for many long and
illustrious years." ...

My husband was deeply attached to this house both for

318 PILSUDSKI

itself and for what it represented, thousands upon thousands of
zlotys spared from none too generous army pay. There was a
story behind it.

At the end of the Great War a fund was started among the
Polish people for the purpose of buying Pilsudski a house and
estate as a memento of his services to the nation. Donations
poured in from all parts of the country and in due course a sub
stantial cheque was presented to him. But instead of putting it
to the use for which it had been intended he gave it for the relief
of widows and orphans of men who had fallen in the war. The
army on learning of what had happened determined that their
Dziadak * should have his house, come what might, so they
opened another fund secretly among themselves, and said
nothing to him until all arrangements were completed. The
site was chosen and in due time the house arose. The sun did
indeed shine upon its walls, penetrating into every room, and
the bees hummed in the garden all summer. And this little
white house, which seemed to have absorbed something of the
warmth and friendliness which had gone to its building, became
our home. After all the tempestuous troubles we had known
it was a haven, the first place where we could live the simple
family life we had always dreamed of.

I want now to draw the portrait of my husband, not as
the Marshal of Poland, but as we saw him in those days of
Sulejowek, and because the impressions of the very young are
always vivid and clear-cut, I called my daughters and asked
them . . . "What shall I write of your father?"

Wanda said . . . "You must write of how gay he was.
How he used to laugh."

And Jagode, the younger, added , . . "And how he used to
make us laugh."

It was true. That unquenchable gaiety which could find
humour even in the midst of disaster, and always sought to
turn a heavy moment into a light one was inseparable from any
picture of him. The house at Sulejowek used to ring with
laughter when he was with the children. He would tell them
stories by the hour, for he had an unlimited repertoire. Some
times fables and fairy tales which he seemed to enjoy almost

* Dziadak-^Grandfather," the nickname given him by the Legions.

THE WHITE EAGLE 319

as much as they did, and which kept them so spellbound that
they could hardly be dragged away at bedtime, because the
most exciting moment of the plot had just been reached:
sometimes stones of his travels in Japan or Siberia. He had so
rich a fund of his own experiences, and even the darkest hours
of his life were transformed for their ears into comedy. When
they grew older he showed them not the horrors of war but the
adventures of his years with the Legions, the humour of the
different types of men in the ranks, the peasants in the villages
through which they passed; reproducing each character with a
perfection of mimicry that would have earned him fame on the
stage. These hours of story-telling were a constant delight to
the children; to them their father was the gayest and best-
loved of all companions, for although he was over fifty when
they were born he could always tune his mind to the tempo
of theirs. He had a great understanding of children, even the
shyest child responded to him. This love of childhood was one
of the strongest motives in his life. He strove to free Poland
not so much for his own generation as for those who would
come after: in the carefree laughter of Polish children who had
come into their own at last he had the reward for his lif ework.
The first reforms he introduced in the new State were those
affecting its children; they had always the foremost place in
his considerations.

I remember that in the early autumn of 1924 he was asked
by a Warsaw firm to make two speeches for the gramophone
so that a record of his voice could be kept. . . . "The second
will be best" ... he said. ... "I shall have had time to
practise on the first one."

The young representative of the firm who did the recording
had expected some weighty discourse on philosophy or history,
but instead Pilsudski spoke to the children. Because I am very
fond of this record and because it is very typical of him I
quote it. . . .

"I am standing in front of a queer tube and thinking
that my voice is soon to be separated from me, and go
somewhere into the world without me, his owner. People
have funny ideas! It is really difficult not to laugh at this

320 PILSUDSKI

odd situation in which the voice of Mr. Pilsudski will
suddenly find itself. I can imagine the funny moment
when some good fellow will turn a handle, press a button,
and a tube will start talking instead of me. I should like
then to see the children who will gather to listen to this tube
talking with a human voice. And I think that among those
children there will be also my own children who will cer
tainly think that their daddy is somewhere behind the tube,
playing at Hide and Seek with them. Then I must laugh
heartily that this poor voice separated from me has sud
denly ceased to be my property and belongs to I know not
whom or what: to the tube or to a joint stock company.
But the funniest thought is that when I shall not be here
any more the voice of Mr. Pilsudski will still be sold for
three grosse somewhere at county fairs, almost by the
pound like gingerbread, and by the ounce like some sort
of sweet.

"They say it is going to make me immortal. So if my
wanton thought can link a tube with eternity I want to
make sure that this voice of mine shall utter one beautiful
truth; the truth of laughter.

"Laughter is the element of happiness, and the more
light-hearted and sincere it is the more frequently we call
it childlike; the more happiness that is in it, the more of
heaven we have on earth. As a good soldier I knew how to
laugh merrily, even in the midst of danger. And while I
am standing before this little machine one thought con
tinually returns to me ... that I would immortalize not
a voice but laughter.

"We welcomed the restored Poland not with the ring
ing laughter of restoration but with acidity and the morbid
peevishness of dyspeptics. So I beg you with this voice
from the tube, all of you who are parents, when you cannot
laugh yourselves, put away the discussions of the peda
gogues, when the jolly silvery laugh of happy children rings
through your house. Let the Polish children laugh with
this laughter of restoration even if you do not know
how to." . . .

CHAPTER XXIII

THOSE THREE years at Sulejowek were passed in rest and quiet
contentment. My husband had always been happiest in the
country; he had never had any liking for the life of cities* In
the peace of the garden in summer where the stillness of the
forest around us was only broken by the drone of the bees
among my sunflowers, and the laughter of the children playing
with their f nends on the lawn, he could relax for the first time
in many years.

Our daily routine was nearly always the same. He slept
late in the morning and rarely came downstairs before noon,
when he had breakfast, read his letters and newspapers, and
walked in the garden with the children. Dinner was at two-
thirty and afterwards he used to spend the afternoon reading
on the veranda, generally works on military topics, travel or
history. Tea, which was at five o clock, was his favourite meal
of the day. He was very fond of sweet cakes and Adelcia, our
cook, who was devoted to him, used to make them in great
variety for him. His tastes in food were simple. He drank a
little wine, generally Hungarian, ate large quantities of sweets
and chocolates, and preferred our Polish national delicacy of
smoked meat to the most elaborate cuisine. After tea he
walked in the forest or up and down one path in the garden
which he specially loved, a long avenue of lilac and acacias. I
always knew by looking out of the window whether he could
be disturbed or not. When he was deep in thought, composing
one of his speeches, he walked with his shoulders hunched and
his hands clasped tightly behind his back. At other times he
liked to have the company of the children, or to watch me
working in the garden. Gardening was almost the only pursuit
which we did not share. He was passionately fond of flowers
but had no instinct for growing them. I can only remember
his making one attempt to acquire it and that was at Sulejowek
when he spent a whole afternoon in digging, and was so stiff

322 PILSUDSKI

the next day that he could hardly move. After that he left the
care of the garden to me.

Much of his best literary work was produced during those
years at Sulejowek, including the "History of the Year 1920,"
and "Memories of Gabriel Narutowicz." His writing was
always done at night when the children had gone to bed and the
house was quiet. He hated writing and so he used to dictate
everything, occasionally to one of his friends but generally to
me. We would shut ourselves up in his study every evening
at about eleven o clock and work, sometimes without a break,
until two or three in the morning, I seated at the desk scribbling
at top speed, he pacing up and down, smoking cigarette after
cigarette, dictating so smoothly and rapidly, with never a
pause to contradict himself, that I could scarcely keep up with
him. Then when the work was finished for the night I would
make tea and we would drink it together, while we talked. I
shall always cherish the memory of summer nights in Sulejowek
when we worked and talked together, alone in a sleeping world,
while the nightingales sang in the acacias and the sweet scent of
lilac was wafted in through the open window.

In the winter when die evenings closed in early and it grew
too dark to walk in the forest and the garden after tea, he used
to find recreation in a game of chess with any of his friends
who happened to be visiting us, or in playing Patience. He
had several different kinds and if the cards would not work
out he would try each in turn.

It was during this same time that he began to take an inter
est in psychic experiments, particularly the transference of
thought. He obtained some extraordinarily successful results
with one of his friends, and was able not only to exchange
messages with him, but even to report accurately a conversa
tion which had taken place at his house which was some con
siderable distance away. Experiments in automatic writing were
equally interesting, and he would, I think, have penetrated
more deeply into the study of the occult but for the fact that he
considered it a subject not to be lightly embarked upon. He
had a profound belief in the immortality of the spirit.

Fete days, which in Poland are not birthdays but th<
festival of the patron saint after whom every child is baptized

THE WHITE EAGLE 323

were great events at Sulejowek and were eagerly looked for
ward to by the children. My husband always managed to think
of some surprise for them and never failed to choose their pres
ents himself, although as a rule he loathed shopping and could
only with difficulty be prevailed upon even to go to his tailor.
But the buying of birthday presents was another thing and no
matter how busy he was he always found time for it.

His own fete days always brought a stream of visitors to
the house from early morning until night. Relatives and per
sonal friends, deputations from the army, former members of
the P.O.W., ex-soldiers of the Legions, representatives of vari
ous social organizations, all of whom had to be received per
sonally. By the end of the day the salon was full of flowers,
and fruit and presents of every description. But the tributes
which gave him the most pleasure were those which came from
hundreds of simple people, Legionaries, peasants, and work
men, many of whom had walked long distances to see him.

The peasants presents always took the form of produce
from their own little holdings, eggs, butter, cheese or home
made wine, and very often live stock. I can remember one
fete day when they included two dogs, a dozen or so of rabbits,
a lamb, a deer, a fox, a goose and a fierce fighting cock. My
husband was so touched at the kind thought of the donors that
he refused to get rid of any of them for several weeks, during
which time the lamb manifested a most unfortunate predilec
tion for the carpet in the salon, the deer devoured all my early
spring flowers, the fox in his anxiety to create a lair for himself
dug up most of the seeds that I had just planted with great
care, and the cock attacked visitors. After that homes were
found for most of them, but the lamb and the goose remained,
and became inseparable companions. It was the oddest sight
to see them walking about the garden, the lamb adapting its
gambols to the sober pace of the goose, or sleeping in the sun
curled up together, die goose s head tucked firmly into the
lamb s neck. It was the strangest case of friendship between
animals I have ever known, but evidently it sprang from
genuine affection, for when the lamb grew up and had to be
given to a neighbouring farmer the poor goose was inconsola
ble, refused to eat and pined away.

324 PILSUDSKI

A permaiient member of the household at Sulejowek was
Pies, my husband s enormous wolf dog, who in spite of his
size was the gentlest and most lovable of creatures. He had
however one grievous blemish on an otherwise perfect charac
ter. He could never be trained. He was sent away to three dif
ferent establishments in succession, each of which guaranteed to
achieve the desired results, but immediately he returned home
he lapsed into his old and bad ways. At length my husband
said that so obstinate a scholar should be left in peace, and his
education was abandoned as hopeless. In spite of this he gave
implicit obedience to his master, and was a perfect companion
for the children. He seemed to consider it his special duty to
watch over them, with results that were sometimes embarrass
ing. In his zeal to protect them he would not let other children
approach them, and small visitors to the house used to be terri
fied when he laid a heavy paw on their shoulders, pulling them
gently away from his charges.

My husband s favourite pet was Kasztanka, the beautiful
Arab mare who carried him through all his campaigns. She was
given to him on the day he led his Strzelcy over the frontier
to the war, in August 1914, and ever after she was his devoted
companion. She was intensely nervous, hated gunfire in spite
of her long experience, and could not be controlled by any one
else. But between her and her master there existed an almost
human understanding. She reached an honourable age and was
finally put out to grass, but she was brought to visit us at regu
lar intervals, and it was sweet to watch her nuzzling her soft
mouth into my husband s hand, and rubbing her neck against
his shoulder in the joy of greeting.

Kasztanka had a son named Niemen, a powerful white
Arab, who was originally intended to succeed her as my hus
band s charger. But alas! Niemen had inherited only her beauty,
nothing of her fire and intelligence. He was the laziest quadru
ped who ever cropped grass, and no matter who attempted to
ride him could never be urged into anything more than a jog
trot pace. He grew fatter and fatter and was finally left to his
inglorious ease in the fields at Pdriliszki

, f *

In the meantime clouds were steadily gathering over the po-

THE WHITE EAGLE 325

litical horizon in Warsaw. In December 1923 the Witos Gov
ernment fell Ladislas Grabski became Prime Minister, and
Sosnkowski, one of my husband s oldest friends and collabora
tors, was appointed Minister of War. Pilsudski was invited to
return to the High Command but refused to do so unless the
conditions attached to the post were completely revised. Dur
ing his term in office he had been handicapped on every side-
Despite the fact that he would be responsible for the army in
the event of war he had been allowed only a limited voice in
such important questions as military training and education,
and even regarding the promotion of officers.

Although he insisted on remaining aloof from all active po
litical work he was kept in constant touch with events in
Warsaw. During the whole time we were at Sulejowek there
was a continual procession of visitors to the house, ministers
and politicians who wanted his advice, army officers who
would not let him retire into oblivion, and brought him their
problems. He still took a prominent part in the organization
of some charitable societies connected with the army. I remem
ber his speaking at Warsaw in the winter of 1925 when he
opened the newly created Association of Soldiers Families.
His own great love of his home and children gave tenderness to
his words to this audience of women, each of whom had sent a
husband to the war.

He began by telling them that he had been invited to open
their meeting because as the late Commander-in-Chief of the
Polish Army he had given the orders which had sent the men
they loved to face death. , . .

"Often when I thought of you and of the blood which I
must cause to be shed I knew black days, and black hours,
in which I judged myself. But the shedding of blood be
longs to black hours.

"There were moments of joy and triumph. But when I
thought that the bulletins of victory were read by many
whose hearts did not beat joyfully but in fear and anxiety
as they scanned the numbers of regiments and divisions to
find one, that of some one dear to them who was exposed to
the bullets which must claim their victim. In those black

326 PILSUDSKI

hours I searched my conscience to justify this shedding of
blood. I could only hope that some day the case would be
taken into account before a higher tribunal than ours, judged
by another wisdom. There are wounds which can only be
healed in the grave, and there are scars which cannot be
obliterated. In those black hours I thought of the women
who stayed at home, who did not hear the fluttering of the
banner, and had only uncertainty and fear for those who
had gone away."

1925 was a year of varied fortunes for Poland. Her fate was
once again debated, this time at Locarno, whereon the longing
eyes of a war-weary world were focused. Unhappily Pilsudski
had already acquired there the reputation of a warmonger,
which had been previously bestowed upon him in Berlin.
Warsaw and Moscow, and the Western Powers hesitated to
guarantee the frontiers of Poland.

It was a sore point with my husband. In 1923 Poland had
asked to be admitted to the membership of the Council of the
League of Nations, but her request had been refused, although
Germany was duly installed there, for at that time the senti
mentalists of every nation were preaching the necessity of
extending a helping hand to the German people, a state of
affairs which would no doubt be ideal, said Pilsudski, but for
the mentality of Germany, who would keep to her pose of
penitence as long as it suited her purpose, and then change it.

"She has just plunged Europe into one war. She is quite
capable of doing it again in twenty years time . . ." he
prophesied. But because even statesmen are deceived with fair
words every one believed in the good intentions of Germany,
and distrusted the blunt realism of Pilsudski, who desired peace
perhaps more passionately than any one in Europe since it
was vital to Poland s very existence, but who admitted frankly
that he wanted his country to be sufficiently strong in arms to
resist attack.

"For centuries men have proclaimed peace with their lips
and yet continued to make war" ... he used to say. . . .
Why should we suppose that human nature is going to
undergo a complete change^" . . .

THE WHITE EAGLE 327

He gave a candid statement in an interview which did not
increase his popularity at Locarno. , . .

"If this universal desire for peace is to be relied upon,
why should preference be given to those who disregard it
and persist in organizing their aggressive forces^ 1 I am afraid
that I have not the faith to believe that when one nation
is attacked every other will hasten to its aid. If all of them
continue to arm it is proof that all are afraid. Why should
Poland be more obedient in guaranteeing peace, when no
other country sets the example by decreasing its arma
ments^"

He insisted that the only practical means of enforcing peace
in Europe was for the League to maintain a standing army to
which all countries would contribute and which would be at
the service of any victim of aggression.

The internal situation in Poland was no less complicated.
The Skrzynski and Grabski Governments had introduced
grandiose schemes of finance and economy but they had not
known how to carry them out, and it was utterly impossible
to arrive at a budget. The zloty fell lower and lower every
day. Those who received monthly salaries were obliged to
turn them immediately into good? before their purchasing
powers dwindled still further. Shopkeepers altered their prices
every few hours, financiers speculated wildly in foreign ex
change. There was poverty everywhere, the unemployed in
the big industrial towns were reduced to the verge of starvation.

Pilsudski who had nursed the new Poland through the first
most difficult years of its existence grew increasingly alarmed
as he saw discontent spreading through the country. Even
more serious was the dissatisfaction in the army. The whole
military system was badly organized. Both officers and men
were seething with resentment. Scarcely a week passed with
out officers, many of whom were his old Legionaries, coming
to him at Sulejowek, singly or in deputations, to lay their griev
ances before him and ask him to take action on their behalf.

On November 13* the Grabski Government^ having lost
the confidence of the nation, was forced to resign. On the
following afternoon Pilsudski called upon President Wojcie-

328 PILSUDSKI

chowski at the Belvedere and handed him a declaration asking
him to protect the interests of the army.

The next day, the anniversary of his return from Magdeburg,
brought my husband a tribute which he valued more than any
others he had ever received. The officers of the Warsaw garri
son, numbering about a thousand and including several gen
erals, marched in a body to Sulejowek to demonstrate their
loyalty and appreciation. General Dreszer, who acted as their
spokesman, in explaining the purpose of their visit, said:

"On the anniversary of your wedding with the State
seven years ago we come to remind you of the time when
you returned from a German prison, and found Poland
apparently lifeless. Broken hearts and nerves strained by
slavery became a background for disputes, quarrels and the
play of petty ambitions. With you came salvation. You took
boldly the highest, albeit the unwritten power of dictator
into your hands. You restored to us Poland s long forgotten
glory; you crowned our banners with victory.

"To-day we are once again in the midst of doubt and
trouble. We ask you not to leave us in this crisis, for you
will desert not only us, your loyal soldiers, but Poland. We
offer you our grateful hearts, but with them we also offer
you our swords." . . .

Pilsudsld in reply quoted the words one of them had used
in a recent report . . . "Honour is the army s god: without it
the army crumbles," and added that in the black hour through
which the State was passing he had tried to defend that maxim
before the President. He had asked him to defend all that the
army stood for. ... He ended by an appeal . . . "Collabo
rate with me in protecting the dear service of our coun
try. . . ." They left him with renewed promises of fidelity
to the State.

The one thing which he had striven to avoid had come to
pass. The army was being used as a pawn in the political
game, controlled by deputies who had no knowledge of its
organization, no care for its welfare, and no interest except
self -advancement.

In the early part of 1926 he was repeatedly asked to take

THE WHITE EAGLE 329

up his former post again, but he steadfastly refused to do so
unless radical changes were made. . . . "Only a fool or a
self-seeking schemer would accept the Chief Command under
the present conditions . . ." he said. The Poles had long lost
their military tradition. Of the six hundred members of the
Senate and the Seym not more than twenty had seen active
service. How then could they be considered as qualified to
direct the life of the army? Some of them were already urging
its reduction, and complaining that the money expended on it
would be better employed in the development of building.

The discontented regiments were clamouring for his return,
but he issued stern and uncompromising orders that there was
to be no agitation in the army on his behalf. Above all things
he would never be a cause of trouble and dissension in the
State. He remained at Sulejowek, quietly confident of his own
point of view, but resolved to take no steps to force the situ
ation in any way. It was obvious, however, that a crisis was
approaching. The budget showed no improvement, and the
Finance Minister s proposal to increase the already heavy taxes
only served to heighten the general depression. The Govern
ment split up, various unsuccessful attempts were made to
form another, and finally, on May loth, Witos once again
became Premier. Dissatisfaction spread still further among the
people. There were violent outbursts in a large section of the
Press, riots broke out in many parts of Warsaw.

A newspaper reporter interviewing my husband asked
whether his return to the army would be delayed by the change
of government. . . .

"Of course . . ." he answered with his usual frankness , . .
"I shall do nothing to support such a glaring transgression of
the moral interests of the State and the army. I shall, as be
fore, make war against the chief evil of our State, the mastery
of Poland by ungovernable groups and parties, which consider
only pence and profits* ..."

The newspaper in which the interview appeared was im
mediately confiscated.

In the meantime the tension increased both in Warsaw and
in the army. Several regiments were on the verge of mutiny.
Pilsudski realized that the State whose creation had been the

330 PILSUDSKI

work of liis whole life was being destroyed by the gangrene
within it. After a consultation with the officers at Rembertow
(the military barracks outside Warsaw) he agreed to lead a
demonstration against the Witos Government, in the hope of
forcing it to make some reforms, at least in the case of the army.

At seven in the morning of May i2th he left Sulejowek
for Rembertow, telling me that he would be home in time for
dinner at two-thirty as usual. At one o clock he telephoned to
say that his plans had been changed. The demonstration was
to take place that afternoon; they were marching to Warsaw
immediately, and I must not expect him home before night.
At that time neither he nor the officers and men of the few
regiments who followed him intended anything other than a
peaceable demonstration.

They marched through the Praga suburb and arrived at the
city itself, which is approached by two parallel bridges. Pil
sudski decided to cross the Poniatowski Bridge, but his way
was barred by President Wojciechowski at the head of troops
who had been rushed to the scene. The president refused to
parley and ordered his men to attack. Pilsudski, not wishing
to fire upon his former friend and President, retired with his
troops, quietly crossed another one of the bridges and occu
pied all the centre of the city.

Fighting broke out in the streets. Pilsudski s men were un
prepared, the majority of them were even lacking in ammuni
tion until they were able to seize supplies in the city, and they
were hampered by the fear of injuring the citizens. But they
had implicit trust in their Commander, and they were fighting
for an ideal.

That night Pilsudski gave an interview to the Press in which
he said- "Although I have always been opposed to violence, a
fact which I proved when I was Chief of State, I have brought
myself after a severe struggle, to a trial of strength with all
its consequences. All my life I have fought for honour, virtue
and all those forces which make a country strong: not for
profit either for myself or for those about me. If the State is
to live there must not be falsehood, iniquities and injustice. All
must work for the good of the whole. . . ."

The fighting did not last long. More than three-quarters

THE WHITE EAGLE 331

of the populace was behind Pilsudski; the Government troops
had little heart in opposing him. All those in Praga came over
to his side; Rydz-Smigly and the Wilno garrison joined him
and regiments arrived from several parts of the provinces.
One cavalry regiment covered eighty miles in a day, but it
insisted on going into action. A young pilot of the Air Force
landed his machine at Sulejowek and came to the house to
ask where he could join my husband. He had flown from a
distant aerodrome to offer his services. By the morning of
May 1 4th, the Belvedere was in Pilsudski s hands. The Gov
ernment fled to Wilanowa, and from there President Wojcie-
chowski sent in his resignation.

In the meantime I had remained at Sulejowek with the
children during what were the most anxious days of my life.
On the second morning my husband sent a guard of forty
men in case we were attacked. They brought me a note
from him in which he explained briefly what had happened,
and after that I could only wait until the evening of the
third day when I could endure the suspense no longer and
went to Warsaw. To my intense relief I found the fighting
over and the city comparatively calm. My husband was
already in the General Staff Office. I was appalled at the
change in him. In three days he had aged ten years* The
flesh seemed to have fallen from him; his face was parch
ment white and the skin had taken on a strange transparency,
almost as though it was lighted from within. His eyes were
hollow with fatigue. Only on one other occasion did I ever
see him look so ill, and that was within a few hours of his
death.

When we were alone together he broke down in telling me
of the battle that had taken place, and I realized what it had
cost him. Because he believed it to be his duty he had fought
against Poles, even against the men who had followed him so
blithely to the wars with Russia. He had won, but there was
no triumph in the moment of victory, only bitterness. Those
three days of civil war left a mark on him for the rest of his
life. He was never so calm as before, never so completely
master of himself. Thereafter he carried always a load.

He held absolute power in his own hands now. He was

332 PILSUDSKI

virtually the Dictator of Poland. He could have assumed the
tide and prerogatives at any moment. He was repeatedly
urged to do so by all the different parties. The Royalists
of the Right even went so far as to approach him with the
suggestion that he should be crowned King. He countered
it with a flash of his dry humour ... "A monarchy should
be hereditary, gentlemen. If you will establish one where
the succession descends through the female line only I will
consider it. . . ."

To the Socialists of the Left, many of whom were his old
comrades of the P.P.S., he explained seriously that he had no
ambition to be dictator. . . . "Why should I be^ I am a
strong man and I like to decide matters myself. But when I
study the history of my country I cannot believe that we are
a nation to be governed by the stick. In any case I do not
like the stick. Our generation is not perfect, but it has rights
which must be respected, and the next generation will be
much better. I could never be in favour of a dictatorship for
Poland. ..."

He used to say that any nation weak and spiritless enough
to put itself voluntarily under the heel of a dictator deserved
its fate. . . . "Dictatorships always end disastrously. History
has proved that. One of two things always happens. Either
the dictator dies, leaving no one to replace him, and the na
tion which has become accustomed to complete submission
to one man s will collapses; or else the people grow tired of
him and throw him out. With a monarchy it is different for
the nation is faithful to the constitution, not to the man. No
mortal man can command eternal fidelity from even one per
son, let alone millions." . . .

In those weeks of power there were suggestions from the
leaders of the Left Wing that he should rid himself of some
of his political adversaries by the simple expedient of having
them put to death. When he refused several of those in favour
of the idea even came to me asking me to use my influence-with
him. He answered that he would be very sorry to create such
a precedent for there would be no end to the hangings in Poland
if every political party which happened to be in power adopted
such a form of vengeance.

THE WHITE EAGLE 333

He was determined to give full legality to the overthrow of
the Government and therefore, in accordance with the law
providing for the absence of the President, he asked Matthias
Rataj, Speaker of the Seym, to take over the office of Acting
President. Casimir Bartel, who had risen from a simple rail
way worker to be Professor and Minister, and who was one
of the most popular men in Warsaw, was appointed Tempo
rary Premier. A Cabinet was then formed pending the election
of a President by the National Assembly of the Seym and
Senate, and Pilsudsla became Minister for War.

On May 2ist he was elected President by a majority of
three to two. He refused to accept the office. He had only
stood because he wished to obtain parliamentary approval for
his actions of May 12-14. The result of the voting was in
itself ample justification. He held the confidence of the Seym.
In a letter to the Speaker he explained his views. He was grate
ful to the Parliament for legalizing his actions, as in February
1919. The fact that the verdict was not unanimous this time
was a hopeful sign. There might be less falsehood and treachery
in Poland. But he considered that the office required a man
of a different type, and that he for his part could not live
without fruitful work.

A new election was held next day and Professor MoscicM,
the well-known scientist, and Pilsudski s friend of many years
standing, was chosen in his stead. The choice was a most happy
one for Poland, for no man could more ably have represented
the country both at home and abroad. For my husband it was
the beginning of a harmonious collaboration which lasted until
his death.

The storm which raged so fiercely in the summer of 1926
gave place to a period of calm and tranquillity. The zloty was
stabilized, commerce and industry began to show signs of
improvement, a bounteous harvest raised the hopes of the
peasants. In the autumn there was a passing phase of tension
when Bartel was forced to resign from the Premiership because
of the intense opposition of the National Democrats in the
Seym. Pilsudski countered it by becoming Premier himself.
He hated the post, for it would encroach upon the time he
wanted to give to the army, but it was the only means of

334 PILSUDSKI

putting a check to the party squabbles which were ready to
break out with renewed force, and which would prevent the
Government from devoting its entire energies to the regenera
tion of the country. As far as he was concerned he already had
the two posts which he had chosen in preference to any, since
they represented the custody of the army, the High Command
and the Ministry of War. Except for two brief Premierships,
he held no others until his death. He wanted no official re
wards, he detested publicity of any sort and shunned the lime
light. All that he wanted was to work for the State and to see
that others did the same. He was fond of the quotation . . .
"Love should be a reality every hour; it should not need ex
pression in words. . . ." He never applied it to his own love
for Poland, yet I have sometimes thought how true it was of
him. Love of his country came before all else; it was for ever
present in his mind; and because of it he took upon himself
tasks that were often uncongenial to him. He had no real wish
to rule, but only to teach others how to rule.

I remember the scene at the opening of the Seym on March
lyth, 1928. It was a solemn occasion with all the newly
elected deputies assembled for the first time, and the public
galleries were crowded with spectators. Pilsudsld as Premier
had to read the President s address, and knowing that the Poles
were rather inclined to treat their President too casually he
always insisted on a punctilious observance of ceremony dur
ing the formalities.

There was dead silence when he rose to read the address,
but before he had spoken even the opening words there were
shouts of "Down with the Government" from the Communist
members on the side benches. My husband swung round upon
them, grey eyes flashing above the grey blue of his uniform,
and his deep, resonant voice rang through the hall . . .
"Silence, or I will have you turned out. . . ." He began to
read the address, but again he was interrupted.

"You heard what I said. You will be turned out. . . ."

For a moment he dominated the clamour, then it broke out
anew. This time he turned to the Minister for Home Affairs,
Skladkowski, who stood behind him. ... "I must ask you
to have them put out, . . ."

THE WHITE EAGLE 335

Skladkowski left him to return a few minutes later with
several policemen, who flung themselves on the interrupters.
The latter put up a violent resistance, whereupon the remaining
Socialist members shouted their protests. For a few minutes
the house was in an uproar.

Pilsudski waited calmly until the arrested men had been
removed, then he turned to the occupants of the Socialist
benches and sternly warned them that unless they were quiet
he would adjourn the parliament. When at length peace was
restored he read the President s address which dealt with the
immense improvement achieved by Poland during the past
twelve months, both in regard to home affairs and in relations
with other European Powers. It was an encouraging statement,
and it was applauded even by the Socialists. Pilsudski had
gained the day. But the strain nad been great, and he was too
tired even to find relaxation in his usual game of Patience that
night.

CHAPTER XXIV

MY HUSBAND was given his former residence at the Belvedere
Palace on his return to office in 1926 and this time I too
moved in there with the children. I can still remember my
first impressions of its sombre grandeur and that I wondered
whether anything would make it look more like a home and less
like a museum. A succession of owners had left the imprints
of their conflicting personalities on it. The main building was
seventeenth century, and its florid baroque had probably been
the last word in elegance when Krzystof Pac, the Lithuanian
Chancellor, had established his family there. A hundred years
or so later it had passed into the possession of Stanislas Au
gustus, last King of Poland, who restored it in the Polish
Empire style, and installed the pottery which was his favourite
hobby. It gave its name to the exquisite pieces of Belvedere
porcelain which found their way, accompanied by one of
the King s gracefully penned notes, into nearly all the royal
houses of Europe. Its next royal owner, the Grand Duke
Constantine, most hated of all Poland s Russian Viceroys,
completed the restorations of his predecessor and added his
own version of embellishment. It was said that his restless
ghost used to return to the scene of his cruelties and wander
through the gardens and salons to the study where he had
signed the orders that sent hundreds of Poles to die. I myself
never saw this apparition, but many people claimed to have
done so, including one of my husband s aides-de-camp, on the
night of the anniversary of the Insurrection of 1830. Even my
husband, who was the least superstitious of men, used to admit
that he often heard steps outside his study, and yet when he
opened the door there was no one in sight, and when he slept
there he used to keep a light burning all night.

At first sight the succession of lofty and imposing salons,
each opening out of the other, and all painted a dull sombre
grey, was depressing, but after the Palace had been redecorated
in warm clear tones and brilliant lighting had been installed the

33*

THE WHITE EAGLE 337

effect was much happier, and the children loved the big gar
dens with their avenues of lime and chestnut trees.

We gave many receptions at the Belvedere, generally in the
afternoon, for my husband hated formal functions and lengthy
official dinners, and always said that the intimate atmosphere
of a "five o clock" was a much better background for diplo
matic relations. He had a great dislike for ostentatious enter
taining, and except for official occasions he preferred to sur
round himself with members of his own family whom he used
to invite for week-ends at Sulejowek or Pikiliszki. The love of
family life was very strongly marked in him, and not one of his
relations, even those with whom he had quarrelled in his youth
on account of his political views, was ever forgotten. In friend
ship he gave that same loyalty. He never believed evil of his
friends and would defend them passionately if others attacked
them. But at the same time he never allowed himself to be
influenced by personal considerations in his choice of a man
for some particular post. All that concerned him was his capa
bility for filling it, and so he made appointments irrespective of
parties or politics. Several of the men he promoted had actually
opposed his rise to power, but that fact made no difference to
him. He never bore any malice towards them. The one ques
tion of paramount importance in his eyes was whether they
could be of use to the State.

The close of the twenties saw the real beginning of the re
generation of Poland which had so long been his dream. By
that time the administration of the army had been reorganized
and put upon a sound basis, and he had induced the Seym to
grant higher pay to the officers.

The Constitution was still a vexed question. Hurriedly
drawn up in 1919, in the first confusion of the new State, it had
been finally passed in March 1921 after a great deal of quibbling
over side issues and not enough investigation of its main clauses.
Consequently it was too loosely framed. The functions of
President, Government and Parliament were never clearly
defined and therefore there was continual, and sometimes
ridiculous, friction between the three. They were always, as
Pilsudski used to say, treading on one another s toes, and much
of their time was spent in reversing each other s decisions.

338 PILSUDSKI

The President was the most seriously handicapped, for while
he was nominally the head of the State his actual power
amounted to nothing. He was, in fact, in the unhappy position
of being placed in the centre of a perpetual tug of war between
the Seym and the Government.

Pilsudski had long called attention to the disadvantages of
this Constitution and had aimed at changing it. During his re
tirement at Sulejowek he drew up plans for a new one, but
nothing could be accomplished until he had a majority in the
Seym. In 1929 his supporters submitted to the House the pro
jected scheme of alteration, but it was not until the last year
of his life that he had the satisfaction of having it passed.

In the meantime the economic life of the country continued
to improve. New industrial enterprises were started. Foreign
export developed to such an extent that the docks of Danzig
were not sufficient for our overseas trade and a new port was
created at Gdynia which, with its modern wharves and equip
ment, was soon to rank as the first Baltic port. Within a few
years it had been transformed from a peaceful little village to
a town of 120,000 inhabitants. Between the two ports there
was constant rivalry and the percentage of export by sea rose
from 7 per cent in 1922 to 50 per cent in 1930, and finally to
77 per cent in 1938. We had at last a merchant fleet of our
own. Coal from our mines in Silesia, timber from our forests,
textiles from the looms of Lodz and Bielsk went all over the
world. Renewed prosperity brought improvement in the gen
eral standard of life. The sum paid into the Postal Savings
Bank, which in 1928 had been 167,000,000 zlotys, reached in
1937 a total of 917,000,000 zlotys.

In those years of regeneration my husband realized many of
the plans which we had first discussed so long ago in the gardens
of Kiev. One of his first measures on taking over the reins
of government in 1918 was a decree establishing an eight-hour
working day with seven hours for miners, and paid holidays
varying from eight to fourteen days a year. At the same time
he introduced a scheme for health insurance and prohibited
the employment of children under sixteen. These decrees were
the preludes to a series of social reforms which gave Poland
in many matters concerning working conditions a leading place

THE WHITE EAGLE 339

among European nations. Special tribunals were set up to
deal with disputes between employers and their workpeople,
others for arbitrating in cases concerning land and agriculture.
Unemployment was relieved by means of grants in some cases
and organized public work in others. A special service was
instituted to provide medical attention for working women and
children of sixteen to eighteen.

In those first years of freedom there was nothing to build
upon. The country was completely without resources in any
branch of social life. Money had to be raised for schools and
higher education. Schemes had to be organized for the relief
of the aged and incapacitated, sanatoriums, hospitals and
convalescent homes had to be built. It says much for our
constructive ability as a race that we were able to do it. The
women of all classes worked unsparingly in every type of social
welfare. It was a proud day when I presided over the first
Women s Congress to be held in independent Poland, at which
forty different women s organizations were represented by
250,000 delegates drawn from all classes landowners, peas
ants, women barristers, police and judges, doctors, deputies,
and factory girls. To us who twenty-five years before had been
forbidden even to speak our own language it was a great event.

The most difficult problem was that of the peasantry, who
were forced to bear the brunt of the nation s poverty and
unemployment. With a birth rate that rose steadily (in the
years between 1921 and 1938 the population increased by
nearly eight millions) * the economic system was not suffi
ciently organized to find a place for them. Their holdings
could not yield them a living; the industries, rapidly as they
were developing, were still not large enough to absorb them.
A scheme of industrial centres seemed to be the most practical
solution to the problem, and was beginning to give admirable
results when the war broke out last year.

. . .

The years from 1926 until my husband s deathpassed in an
almost continuous round of work for both of us. The women s
organizations in which I was interested occupied my days from

* Population of Poland m 193834,500,000.

340 PILSUDSKI

9 A.M. till 3 P.M. and then again from 5 P.M. until 8 P.M. and
between those hours I had the care of the house and the chil
dren. Except for meals we scarcely saw one another until the
evenings but we always kept three precious hours between

10 P.M. and i A.M. to spend together, no matter how busy we
were. We used to sit in his study to talk over the events of
the day, and then he would leave me and go back to his work
until 3 or 4 A.M. He had no time for relaxation in those days,
even the chess-board was put away except for week-ends at
Sulejowek. Fortunately he had trained himself to snatch five
minutes sleep at any time in the day. He would relax com
pletely in his chair and awake rested and with renewed vitality.
Had it not been for those odd moments of repose I do not think
that even his iron constitution could have stood the strain.

Foreign relations were a continual source of anxiety to him.
We lived perpetually in the shadow of war either with Russia
or Germany. For many years small groups of Soviet troops
continued to harry the eastern frontier. The Germans clam
oured incessantly for the return of Danzig and the Corridor
and sent their agents to stir up trouble in the Free City, though
the populace, to whom Polish commerce had brought pros
perity, were now on a completely friendly footing with Poland
and desired no break in the relationship. Pilsudski, who longed
for peace above all else, foresaw the inevitability of war, and his
one object was to postpone it until such time as Poland should
be strong in her own defences. . . . "Every day when we
are not at war is a day gained" ... he used to say, and he
never ceased to urge upon the Government the necessity of
rearmament, and die fallacy of complacency. . . . "To be
conquered and not surrender, that is victory. To conquer and
rest on one s laurels is defeat. . . ."

He welcomed the advent of Hitler to the German Chancel
lorship in January 1933, because in those early days of power
Hitler s gospel was one of peace and the Germans had been
most vociferous in their demands for Danzig under Stresemann.
The new Chancellor, on the contrary, seemed desirous of
manifesting his goodwill.

A few months later we were spending a short holiday at
Pikiliszki when the news reached my husband that the
Germans were concentrating troops at the frontier. Without

THE WHITE EAGLE 34!

losing a moment he hurried to President Moscicki, dispatched
several regiments to the Westerplatte and mobilized the Fleet.

Those were the days before Goering preferred guns to but
ter and therefore there was a conciliatory note from Hitler,
regretting the unfortunate misunderstanding. He had no de
signs upon Poland; on the contrary, he would be glad to
establish friendly relations between the two countries. It was
a diplomatic victory, but it did not deceive my husband. . . .
"It will give us longer to prepare our defences . . ." he said
to me afterwards . . . "But it is only a question of putting off
the evil day. While Germany looks towards the Corridor and
Russia has her eyes on the west there can be no lasting security
for us. , . ."

In the following year the ten-year pact of non-aggression
was signed between Poland and Germany. He was jubilant
over it. "I suppose that means that for ten years we shall not
have war ..." I said. He shook his head. . . . "No, no. It
only means that Hitler has postponed it. Poland is not so weak
as all that, nor is Germany as strong and united as he will wish
to make her before he takes upon himself the risk of a war.
The respite will give us rime to organize our lives, but after
that we must be ready to defend ourselves. We have no other
alternative. ..."

After Hitler s recovery of the Saar he warned certain foreign
diplomatists on the subject of German rearmament for he was
convinced that it could only have one outcome, but unfor
tunately for Europe his warnings were not heeded.

The last twelve months of his life brought him the harvest
of all that he had sown. Poland was free. She was a solid, self-
governing nation with a well organized army and a balanced
budget. Her ships sailed the sea, her trade was bringing her
prosperity, her people were thriving and contented. She had
pacts with Russia and Germany. Her future seemed assured
of peace for some years at least.

The new Constitution had been signed. The nation had
reached real unity at last. As he said, . . .

"We will stand together, as always, ready to give our
lives for our country, and the fights we have had in the past
will not divide us, but will draw us together, like the memory

342 PILSUDSKI

of a violent quarrel between brothers who love one another
and love their family. . . ."

In the autumn of 1934 his health began to fail but he carried
out his full program, even to setting problems in military
tactics and strategy for his officers at Wilno and near the
Czech frontier, and reading all their reports himself. It was
tiring work and he came home haggard and exhausted. But by
Christmas he had recovered and for the first time in many years
he escaped influenza. He talked no more of resigning and made
plans for the future.

January was saddened to him by the death of his sister.
A strenuous fast which he imposed on himself robbed him of
his resilient vitality. During the month of March the slightest
exertion became too much for him. But he made a great
effort and rallied to a semblance of himself for Mr. Anthony
Eden s visit to Warsaw in the beginning of April and he was
pleased with the satisfactory results of their conversations to
gether.

We were to have spent Easter at Sulejowek but he was not
well enough to leave Warsaw. He passed the time instead in
an easy chair on the veranda reading a great deal, playing
Patience and feeding the pigeons, but he was so obviously
growing weaker that I asked the doctors who were attending
him to send for a celebrated professor from Vienna. At first
my husband refused to listen to the suggestion, told me that it
was my imagination, and that all he needed was a holiday.
He insisted on going to the office, even though he was too ill
to work and a bed had to be made up for him there. He was
tormented by the fear of another cut in Poland s territories.
. . . "We can only just exist within our present limits . . ."
he said repeatedly. . . . "If they slice our boundaries down
to the Bug we shall lose everything. . . ." He used to sit at
his desk anxiously studying the map.

The specialist who came from Vienna diagnosed a cancer
which had already attacked the liver, but he kept his verdict
from every one except the doctors who consulted with him,
and my husband remained convinced that he would soon be
well. The end came so quickly that he did not even realize it.

THE WHITE EAGLE 343

He died on Sunday, May iith, still in harness, receiving the
ministers and giving them instructions to the last.

On the Friday, two days before he died, M. Laval was in
Warsaw, and although my husband was not well enough to see
him, Mr. Beck, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, came to the
Belvedere to report the conversations that had taken place.
They worked together for an hour and Mr. Beck was delighted
to find him apparently so much better. The next morning he
laughed and talked animatedly with one of his generals who
came to visit him, but later in the day he had a sudden haemor
rhage from which he never rallied. The next evening his life
drew to its close, very quietly and peacefully.

When the news spread through the city the people were
stunned. They had not even known that he was 31. They
had believed that he was suffering from a diplomatic indis
position because he wished to avoid discussing the Eastern
Pact with Laval. The news found them utterly unprepared,
and men as well as women wept openly in the streets when they
heard it,

The whole nation mourned him. Reverent crowds lined the
street as his body was borne with military honours from the
Belvedere Palace to the Cathedral to lie in state for a week.
Thousands, from the highest to the lowliest, filed past to look
their last upon him. And afterwards his soldiers too took fare
well of him at the solemn ceremony of the last review.

He was laid to rest at the Wawel in Cracow with the kings
and heroes of Poland, but his heart is buried, in fulfilment of his
last wish, at the feet of his mother in Wilno, in the same ceme
tery where so many of his soldiers are laid.

It was night when he was borne on his last journey from
Warsaw to Cracow, but all along the route of the funeral train
his way was lighted by the flames from the fires of wood which
the people of the countryside had gathered to do honour to his
passing.

"When I stand before a coffin I must speak of death, of
tb^ omnipotent mistress of all that lives. All that lives
^, and all that dies has lived before. The kws of death
are irrevocable. They are as though their purpose is to

344 PILSUDSKI

state the truth that what has risen out of dust into dust
must return. When we drop a stone on the surface of still
water, rings arise which spread, and slowly subside. Like
wise men live after they have passed through the narrow
gateway of death; the rings of their life slowly subside and
disappear, leaving behind them emptiness and even oblivion.
The laws of death and the laws of life which are interwoven
are irrevocable and merciless. There have lived multitudes
of men and all have died. Generations after generations
living an everyday life, ordinary or extraordinary, pass into
eternity leaving behind them only vague recollections. Yet
there are men and there are human works so strong and so
powerful that they gain victory over death, that they live
and are present among us. ...

"The narrow gates of death do not exist for some men.
When I count the layers of open earth and see the highways
of the past along which humanity has marched and along
which history now steps forward, I see hard roads which
men, entering upon life by generations and dying by
generations, have strewn with their life as with their death.
Generations have left traces by their skeletons and their
daily work and by their daily rest have strewn lasting and
eternal highways. But everywhere where the highways
have turnings, where the road bends, where there is human
hesitation and fear, huge boulders stand like finger-posts,
testifying to the great truth of existence. Huge boulders
stand lonely, but they bear names, while men perish leaving

no name. . . ."

Thus spoke Joseph Pilsudski as he stood in that same Wawel
beside the coffin of Slowacki, the patriot poet whom he had
caused to be brought from France to lie in Polish soil. And
on his own tomb are inscribed the words of Slowacki. . . .

"He who has chosen the nest on the heights of the eagle
rather than the hearthstone will know how to sleep when
the horizon is red with the storm, and the mutterings of
demons are heard in the wind among the pines. Thus have
I lived. . . ."

INDEX

INDEX

Albrecht, King John, 88
Alexander I, Czar of Russia, 75, 76
Alexander H, Czar of Russia, 89,

90

Alexander HI, Czar of Russia, 162
Allied Supreme Council, 295
Augustus, Stanislas, 70, 71, 72, 336
Austria, 70, 71, 72, 150, 159, 200,

211-2, 213, 214, 215, 217, 218,

219, 220, 224, 226, 227, 229, 231,

233, 234, 236, 237, 239, 240, 251,
252, 253, 254, 257-9, 260, 286

Aveling, E., 165

B

Bartel, Casimir, 333

Batory, Stefan, 82

Beck, Colonel, 15, 343

Bebna, cavalry commander, 221,

222, 292
Beseler, General von, 240, 253, 257,

258, 259, 260, 267, 274
Bezdany, 182-95
Bojowka (Association of Secret

Conspiracy and Combat), 42,

114-22, 123-39, x8i, 182-95,

196

Brudzswa, Wojereck, 119
Brusilov, General, 237, 251, 252
Budienny, Russian General, 297
Bulow, Von, 196
Burkhardt-Bukacki, 213

Casimir IV, King, 69
Catherine of Russia, 70, 71, 72

Chopin, 77
Clemencean, 294
Congress of Vienna, 75
Conservative Party, 96, 199-200
Constantine, Grand Duke of Rus-

S1 *> 75 33 6
Copernicus, 119

Council of Regency, 269, 271, 276
Cracow, 13, 16, 73, 75, 117, 118,

119, 199,231,232,253
Curie, Marie, 92
Czestochowa, 24, 48

D

D Abernon, Lord, 298

Damlovski, M., 220, 221, 233

Dankiel, Austrian General, 229,
231

Danzig, 15, 72, 75, 87, 289, 295,
303, 340

Daszynski, 278, 279

Dmowski, Roman, 95, 103, 196,
218, 237, 278, 279, 280

Dreszer, General, 328

Druzyny Strzeleckie (Non-Social
ist Youth), 200, 213-4

E

Eden, Anthony, 342
England, 166, 289, 295, 296

Filipowicz, Tytus, 102, 134
Foch, Marshal, 278, 279
Frederick the Great of Prussia, 70,

Frederick William of Prussia, 71

347

INDEX

G

Gapon, Father, 109

Gdynia, 338

German Soldiers Council, 1918,

2 74-5
Germany, 15-6, 20, 21-49, 67-73,

, 212, 232,

138,

2 34 2 39
253, 254, 257-9, 260, 261, 266,
267-70, 273, 274-5, 278, 285, 298,

303* 38i 326
Grabski, Ladislas, Polish Prime
Minister (1923), 325, 327

H

Haller, General, 279, 285
Hanka, 127-30
Hellman, Madame, 184, 190
Hitler, 15, 340, 341
Hohenzollern, Albrecht von, Duke

of Brandenburg, 69
Howard, Sir Esme, 288

I

Imoretinski, quoted, 81

J

Jadwiga, Queen, 68, 287
Jagiello, Grand Duke, 68, 69, 287
Janka, 99
Jusserand, M., 298

K

Klempinska, Madame, 241, 242,

243, 244, 245, 246, 247
Koe, Commander, 271
Kosakiewicz, Madame, 184
Koscmszko, Thaddeus, 72-4, 89
Krachelska, Jadwiga, 133-4

Laval, M., 343

Lenin, 287, 298, 308

Liga Kobiet (Women s Organiza
tion for Welfare of the Troops ) ,
261

Lithuania, 50, 52, 152, 153, 287,

288-9, 2 9-5 3 02 ~3
Lloyd George, 288, 294
Lubomirski, Prince, 271
Luce-Birk, 192
Luxemburg, Rosa, 95

M

Malinsky, 171
Mann, Tom, 165
Maria Theresa of Austria, 70, 71
Mazurkiewicz, Wladyslaw, 179-80
Mendelssohn, 99
Mickiewicz, 77, 155, 303
Milkowski, Colonel, 95
Moraczewslu, 279
Moscicki, Professor, First Polish
President, 333, 341

N

Napoleon, 74, 156

Narutowicz, Gabriel, President of
Poland, 310-15

National Democrats Party, 95, 103,
196, 218, 219, 226, 237, 278, 279,
280,281,311,315,333

Nicholas I, 76

Nicholas, Grand Duke of Russia,
218-9

N.K.N. (Chief National Commit
tee), 219, 221, 226, 233, 236, 238,

2 53

O

Owczarkowna, Maria, 133

Paderewski, Ignatius, 280-1, 295

Palmerston, Lord, 79

Partitions of Poland (1772), 70,

Pazchalski, 241

Peasants, life and customs, 12, 18,
19, 63-4, 87-91, 98, 109, 323,

339
Peasants Party, 280

P&ain, Mare chal, 17

Petlura, Ukrainian Leader, 296

Pilsudski, Bronislas (brother),

162
Pilsudski, Jagode (second daugh

ter), 301, 318
Pilsudski, Joseph (senior), 152-3,

154
Pilsudslu, Joseph Kiemens Ginet--

Birth and early life, 152-4

Education, 154-7, 161

Early sympathies, 157, 160-2,

164-5
Leader of P.P.S. and Bojowka,

101, 104, 116, 117, 136
Visit to Japan, 101, 102-4
Political action against Russia,

104-6, 109-22
Ideas on women s franchise,

150-1, 279

Exile in Siberia, 162-4
Editor of Socialist paper Robot-

mk, 164-5, 169-71
Life in London (1896), 165-6
His first wife, 169-70, 181
Imprisonment, 171-80
Escape, 177-80
Second courtship and marriage,

181
Co-operation with "The Asso

ciation of Active Struggle,"

182-95

Bezdany hold-up, 197-206
Attempted formation of Polish

Army, 211-4

INDEX 349

Creation of Polish Government,

214
Co-operation with Austrian

army in war on Russia, 214-

229
Formation of P.OW. (Polish

Military Organization), 224,

238-9

Retreat (1914), 229-32
With Polish First Brigade, 232-

*33 *34 *39-4
Austro-German-Polish Rally

(1915), 233-36

Demand for Polish independ
ence, 239-40

Calls Council of Colonels
(1916), 252

Resignation, 253

Attends Provisional Council of

State (1917)* Z 54

Minister of War (1917), 254-60

Resignation, 260-1

Prisoner in Germany, 261, 264-9

Release and return to Warsaw,
269-72

Control of Independent Poland
(1918), 272-6

As Chief of State, forms Na
tional Government and reor
ganizes Army, 276-82, 284-6

Opens First Polish Diet (1919)1
282-4

Reconstruction of Poland, 284-
289, 304, 308

Takes Wilno from Bolshevists,
290-5, 302-3

Distrust of Bolshevism, 295-6,
war against, 296-301, victory
over, 301-2

Marshal of Poland, 296

Demands strong army, 307-8,

3 jr 21*7

Refuses to stand as President

(1922), 309
Resignation from Government,

350

INDEX

Home life at Sulejowek, 317-

H
Return to public life, three days

of civil war, 325-31

Appoints temporary Govern
ment, 331-3

Minister of War, 333

Elected President, refuses office,

333
Becomes Premier (1928), 334-5

Residence at Belvedere Palace,

Warsaw, 336

Regeneration of Poland, 337-40
German menace of war, 340-1
Failure of health (1934)* 342-3
Death and burial, 343-4
Otherwise mentioned, 15, 51, 95,

101, 141, 149, 245, 251
Writings, 314-5, 322
Quoted on: the army, 258, 259,
286, 328; Austrian army,
227, Bojowka, 112, 113, 115,
122; Bolshevism, 287-8; the
English, 166; French Revo
lution, 156, national insur
rection, 1 60, 189, 197, 198,
203; German and Russian
occupation, 137-8, 153, 155,
to German soldiers, 274,
275; Japan, 102, 103; Lithu
ania and Wilno, 46-7, 288,
289, 292, 303; the Polish
character, 257; Polish free
dom, 101, 211, 214, 2x6, 253,
254, 280, 283-4, 35- 6 3 I<5 >
33 33 2 ; to Polish women,
224-5, 3 2 5~6; prison life, 171,
172-6, publicity, 255, 256;
his printing-press, 171; Rus-
sia, 103-4; the Strzelcy, 217-
218, 231, war, 16-17, 22 > 5 2
202-3, 228, 229, 232, 233, 234-
239, 291, 295-7, *98-9 300, 301,
305-6; other quotations, 261,
265-6, 267, 268, 276, 277, 278,
284, 314, 315, 316-7, 319-20,

3*9. 340

Pilsudski, Madame (n6e Alex

andra Szczerbinska):
Birth and early life, 18-20, 56-

66, 80, 81-2, 85-7
Education, 82-5, 92-3, 97
Menace of war, 20
Return to Warsaw and war

work, 21-36
Leaves Warsaw and bombed

from the air, 36-41
At Kamienny Dwor, 41-4; at

Wilno, 45-50, flight from

Poland into Lithuania, 50-2;

Stockholm, 52-3; arrival in

England, 53
Political interests, 94-122, 123-

136, 183-95
Early meetings with Pilsudski,

116-8, 120-1, 149-51, 181
Smuggling arms, 116, 133-9,

arrest by Russian police and

prison life, 139-48
Co-operation with "The Asso

ciation of Active Struggle"

(Strzelcy) and Bezdany hold

up (1908), 182-95, 203-5
Secretary in Lwow, 203
Work with women s branch of

Strzelcy, 205-10
Work with army "Intelligence

Section," 240
Arrest by Germans and im

prisonment, 240-1
Removal to Szczpiorno deten

tion camp, 241-47
Transfer to Lauban camp, 247-

251
Release and return to Warsaw,

Work for the Liga Kobiet, 261-2
Birth of daughter Wanda, 263-4
Evacuated to Cracow, 301
Home life at Sulejowek, 317-24
Return to Warsaw, 331
Residence at Belvedere Palace,
Warsaw, 336-7, 339-40

President of first Women s Con
gress, 339

Illness and death of Pilsudski,
342-4

Pilsudski, Maria (mother), 153-4,
155-6

Pilsudski, Maria (nie Juszkiewez),
169-70, 181

Pilsudski, Wanda (eldest daugh
ter), 18, 23, 26, 32, 263-4, 265,
267, 270-2, 290, 318

Poland. History of, 67-80, 88-9,
Russian and German menace,
15, 16; War with Germany
(1939), 20, 21-49, reasons for
defeat, 28-30; attacked by Rus
sia, 48-50; tradition of Polish
landowners, 157-8, 159, 160;
prison system in Russian Po
land, 148, 175-7, Germany pro
claims independence of (1916),
251-4; Provisional Council of
State (1917), 254, 257, gains
independence, Pilsudski takes
control, 267-72, advance of Bol
shevists, 273; National Govern
ment formed, 276-80; elections
for Diet, 279-82; first meeting
of Diet (1919), 282-4; recon
struction under Pilsudski, 284-
289; formation of army, 284-
286; Wilno taken from Bolshe
vists, 290-5; war against Bol
shevists, 296-301; victory, 301-
302; Lithuanian situation, 302-
303; alliance with France and
pact with Rumania, 304; Con
stitution drawn up, 305, re
fused membership of Council
of League of Nations, 326; three
days civil war, 327-31; tem
porary government appointed,
333, new Constitution drawn
up, 337-8; reconstruction car
ried out, 337-40, foreign rela
tions, 340, German troops con
centrated on frontier (1933),

INDEX 351

340-1; ten-year pact of non-
aggression signed with Ger
many, 341

RO.W. (Polish Military Organi
zation), 224, 229, 238, 239, 240,
258, 259, 260, 269, 271, 274, 279,
285, 286

P.P.S. (Polish Socialist Party), 99-

102, 104, IIO, 1 12-22, 135, 169,

198, 199, 203, 206, 207, 280,

Prisoners Aid Society, 204
Prystor, Colonel, 115, 184, 187,

191, 192
Prystor, Madame, 184

Quelch, H M 165

R

RadziwiH, Count, 297
Raswadowski, General, 298, 299
Rataj, Matthias (Speaker of the

Seym), 333

Ratdnfe, General, 298
Realist Party, 96
Ribbentrop, von, 15
Robotnik (The Worker), organ

of P.P.S., 164, 165, 169-71, 180
Rosnowski, Carol, 170
Russia, 47-52, 49-50, 57, 58, 67-80,

81-91, 92, 93, 94, 95, 96, 101-

IO6, 109-11, 114, Il8, 121, 122,

124, 144, 145, 148, 156, 159, 160,

162, 163, 164, 165, 175-7, I82

183, 184, 192, 196, 200, 205, 211,
214-25, 232, 233, 237, 238, 251,
252, 255, 259-60, 273, 286, 287,
288, 293, 294, 295, 296, 297, 302,
308

Ruzzski, General, 237
Rydz-Smigly, Marshal, 14, 15,

35*

INDEX

Sabashnikov, Dr. Ivan, 178
Sawicki, Colonel, 191, 194, 195
Scallon, Russian Governor, 133-4
Siedielnikow, Alexel, 177
Siemiradska, Madame, 93, 96
Sieroszewski, Waclaw, Polish

novelist, 218
Sigismund I, King, 69
SMadkowski (Minister for Home

Affairs, 1928), 334-5
Skrzynski, 327
Slaweck, Walery, 115, 187, 188-9,

191
Slowacki, 77, 85, 120, 155, 157, 303,

344
Sobieski, King John, 66, 82, 118,

301

Social Democrats, 144, 226, 280
Sosnkowski, General Casimir, 115,

182, 197, 221, 222, 261, 265, 266,

269, 298, 299, 325
Starzynski, S,, Mayor of Warsaw

Strabrowski, painter, 130

Stresemann, 340

Strzelcy (Union of Riflemen),

199, 203, 204, 205, 206, 213-18
Sulkiewicz, Alexander, 99, 164
Sulkiewicz, Mendelssohn, 99, 164
Supreme Council of Allies, 298
Swetochowski, writer, 96
Swirski, Count, 187-8
Szwarce, Bronislaw, 163

Thorn, Treaty of, 69
Tukachevski, Russian Comman
dant, 299

U

United States of America, 260
278, 283, 284, 289

V

Vistula, Battle of (1920), 301-2

W

Warsaw, 21, 22-7, 31-6, 73, 74, 75,

94-597 I 4i I 33> 188,239

Wassilewski, 288

Weygand, General, 298, 299

Wilno, 45, 46, 48, 49, 191, 207, 287,
288-9, 290-5, 302-3; University
of, 47, 150, 154-5, *94i 3*7

Wilson, President, 259

Wislicki, Statute of, 87

Witos, Wincenty, ex-Premier of
Poland, 329

Wojciechowski, Stanislas, ex-
President of Poland, 165, 169,

330.

Yodko, 99

Zeligowski, General, 302
Zelinsky, Jan, 146, 147
Zulinski, Thaddeus, 229, 239

1 02 269

OD<

5 rn
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